Serpent of the World
by Lady Miya
Summary: The Serpent is stirring. Deep in the ocean, his millennia long slumber is coming to an end. If he wakes up, it will be the end of the world. Only one man can save them. Alas, he has just died.
1. Chapter 1

**Serpent Of The World**

Hello! New story from me, the honourable, marvellous and all around wholesome Lady Miya. This fic is not like my others. For starters: I don't ship anyone in here. Hermione and Tom are the main characters and the story will happen around them. But why they won't have a romantic relationship is something that will become clear in the next few chapters. But, since it's me, there will of course be smut (but not between Tom and Hermione). I just wanted to come out and say it right now so I won't get angry reviews about how they don't end up together. The story is already finished (but still needs to be edited and betaed) so that's the way I can say for sure that they won't be together romantically.

So for all of you who hasn't already gone screaming in the other direction, here are the warnings: smut, death, torture, language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I don't make any money of this story.

Special thank to Ozzy (ozzymandius) who betaed this chapter! Couldn't have done it without you, love. Have some cookies!

I hope you like the story!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

It was with great sorrow Salazar Slytherin witnessed the destruction of Hogwarts. To increase his sorrow and anger, this was all caused by his one and only heir, known to the world as Lord Voldemort.

When Salazar had been alive, he might have been proud of his heir's power and ambition. However, after a thousand years, you did change somewhat. Now Salazar only saw the man as a hypocrite. Lord Voldemort had been born to the world as Tom Riddle. His mother had been one of Salazar's last three pureblooded descendants. She had run off with a Muggle and their union had resulted into the very disturbed Tom Riddle, who claimed to be pureblood, but had no idea at all of what was expected of a pureblood. Instead, Voldemort had just taken advantage of the hatred of Muggles and used it to get power. He didn't even know why Muggles couldn't be trusted!

Now, however, the terror of Lord Voldemort seemed to be coming to an end.

Salazar had been following the battle from a tower of Hogwarts. When he had helped to build Hogwarts, he had put his very soul in his work. Not like a horcrux, as Voldemort had done, but in a more loving way. An argument with Godric Gryffindor had forced Salazar to leave Hogwarts, but just one year after, Salazar had been murdered. Not wanting to leave the world, he had taken refuge at Hogwarts, which was so full of his soul and magic that he had almost been reborn. Almost.

He was more than a ghost because he still had some magical abilities and could touch and move whatever he wanted. However, he just wasn't alive. His body was exactly the same as it had been when he had died at the age of fifty seven. He couldn't eat or drink. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't leave Hogwarts' grounds and while ghosts could become visible whenever they wished, only people connected to Salazar's blood and magic could actually see him.

He was neither dead nor alive, and after a few hundred years of nothing exciting happening, he had retreated into the Chamber of Secrets. He had fallen into some sort of hibernation, waiting for something to happen. Five years ago, he had been awakened by a girl crying in the chambers.

To his great surprise he had realised that it was a horcrux that had taken control of the girl. He had instinctively recognised his own blood and it had been confirmed later when a young boy came down to rescue the girl. Salazar had watched with great surprise how the young boy, called Harry Potter, managed to destroy the vessel keeping the horcrux alive.

Not being able to see his own kin die like that, Salazar had captured the torn part of the soul and kept it with him. Once he had discovered what was going own, he was glad he had. Not only did the part of the soul belong to the last person of his blood, but there were bigger things at stake. Unfortunately, no one but him seemed to realise what was going on. They were all too busy fighting Voldemort.

Salazar had started to haunt the Headmaster's office and found out everything he needed to know about his only heir. Thanks to that, he had had four years to make a plan. When other fragments of Voldemort's soul had been removed from their vessels, Salazar had summoned them to the part he had captured. If he hadn't, the fragments would have ceased to exist.

Now, as Salazar watched the destruction of his beloved castle, he knew the time had come to set his plan in motion. There was only one small fragment missing from Tom Riddle's soul and once Salazar had that, he would be able to restore his heir. Then he would teach the little hypocrite how he should live his life.

xxx

Tom Riddle woke up, feeling very strange. He remembered perfectly well going to Potions and trying to brew the Draught of Living Death for the first time. It had been harder than he had imagined and he had been in an awful mood at lunch. Not even Black's latest stunt with scaring some first years with the tale of Slytherin's monster had cheered him up. Black had no idea what the monster looked like. Tom did. Everyone believed he had been the one to stop the monster. That wasn't true. He had in fact been the one controlling the monster. Just at the end of last school year had he framed that oaf Hagrid.

It had been enough to keep the school open for another year and now it was almost time for the winter break. It had taken Tom the entire fall to get Professor Slughorn to sign a note saying Tom could borrow Magick Moste Evile. Now he had what was needed to make use of the split he had made in his soul last school year when he killed that girl. He could finally make a Horcrux.

Tom remembered having these thoughts. Since he had had a free afternoon, he had walked to the Chamber of Secrets to start the process that would allow him to take the first step to immortality. He remembered entering the Chamber, but then everything became a blur.

Somehow he knew that a lot of time had passed, but he just couldn't remember what had happened. Just flashes that made his head ache. Had someone attacked him?

He realised his eyes were closed and decided to open them. Light was streaming in from windows close to the roof. He could hear water dripping and feel hard stone underneath him. Hogwarts. Yes, somehow he was sure he was at Hogwarts. Well, he was a student... or, was he? Something felt wrong. Why did he have the feeling he had already graduated?

An image of a parchment bearing his final grades and that wonderful feeling of triumph entered his mind. How could that be?

This was not the time to think about that. He had to take care of any immediate danger. If someone had messed with his mind, they were probably still around and he needed to know more about them. Sitting up slowly, he recognised his surroundings. This was the girls' bathroom which held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Had he slipped on his way down to the Chamber?

No, the place looked different. The mirrors on the wall had been changed, the doors to the loos had a new colour and the place was too quiet. Usually he had to avoid at least a couple of Hufflepuff girls, since this bathroom was the closest from their dorm. Actually, the whole castle didn't sound the way it used to. Something was very wrong. Had an experiment gone wrong?

Yes, he remembered starting to create the Horcrux and placing it inside the diary...

"Boy!" A pair of fingers snapped in front of his face.

Shocked, he looked up and saw a man he was sure he had never seen before looming over him. Tom hastened to stand, but his body wasn't working as he remembered. He slipped and the man captured him. His face was red with mortification as he pushed the man away and took a step back.

This wasn't good, he needed to get his body under control. The man had obviously done something to him. Tom looked at him closely. He was sure he had never seen the man before, but something felt... familiar. The first thing that struck him were the mesmerising grey eyes and the strange robe. The robe was... big. It was black and very well sewn, beautifully decorated with silver serpents. It must have had many layers and Tom wondered if the man wasn't feeling hot. The bathroom was very hot for midwinter.

"I can imagine your confusion, Tom," the man said. "I'll explain everything once I have confirmed that you are indeed you. What is your name?"

Tom was usually very quick to come up with solutions to problems, but right now, he was at a loss. His brain seemed very slow, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. "You just said it, didn't you? I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."

The man nodded, seemingly pleased. "Good. How old are you?"

"I'll turn seventeen in two weeks…" Tom trailed off. No, that wasn't right. He remembered that he would be seventeen in two weeks, but at the same time, he distinctly remembered turning seventeen. He looked around again and noticed the sun shining through the windows, and how warm it was. In the distance, he could see leaves on the trees in the Forbidden Forest.

It was summer. Or spring at least. His birthday was in the middle of the winter. Something was very, very wrong here. Tom glanced towards a mirror and saw the same face he had seen the morning, before he had walked to his Potions class. What was going on?

"So you just remember the things you did up to when you created your first Horcrux. Well, the rest will come to you in due time. But why don't we take a tour?" The man held out his hand for Tom.

Tom frowned. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on. Who are you?" He searched his pockets for his wand. He needed it to protect himself. Why didn't he have it in his hand already?

"You don't have your wand, boy. My name is Salazar Slytherin, and I've brought you back from the dead. You'll show me respect."

Tom froze in his movements, just staring at the man. He looked nothing like the portraits or statues of Slytherin. And brought him back from the dead? That was just ridiculous! He couldn't die.

"You don't believe me. Well, you will soon." Slytherin (or whoever the person was), grabbed Tom's shoulder and forced him to move out of the bathroom. Tom tried to wrestle free, but for some reason, his body didn't have the power to break free. Swallowing the fear of why that was, Tom decided to wait until he had more information and had figured out what to do next. At least the man didn't seem like he wanted to hurt him.

As they came out in the corridor, Tom was horrified to see the destruction of Hogwarts. Walls were torn down, blood was splattered across the floor and many paintings and suits of armour seemed to be destroyed. The worst, however, were the sounds. He could hear voices, mumbling about the identities of those who had been murdered. Crying people who had lost their close ones. They went past a boy who just sat on the floor, terror on his face. A girl came over to him, made him rise and follow her. However, he didn't seem to be aware of what he was doing. His face was frozen in shock.

Tom felt personally violated. This castle had been his home since he had got here. It had been his and he liked it.

Who could have done this to his home? Whoever it was, Tom swore to make that person suffer horribly.

When they entered the Great Hall, Tom's eyes flew over the many dead bodies. He didn't care that they were dead, but it felt wrong to see them lying where he used to eat. This was a place for eating, not death! The whole world had gone mad.

"What should we do with it?" A voice captured Tom's attention. It came from a red-haired young man who sounded very frightened.

"I think we should just burn it with the Death Eaters," came the not-so-frightened reply from a tall, dark, bald man.

Salazar steered Tom towards the group of people where the two men stood. They were all looking at something.

"And we are sure he can't come back again?" an elderly witch asked with a worried frown.

"Potter seemed certain of it," the bald man answered.

An opening between two wizards revealed what they were all looking at. Tom took a step forward. It was a body clad in a long black robe. The head was white as snow and completely bald. The red eyes were still open, but had no life in them. There was no nose or lips. A white, skeletal thin hand lay in front of the face, holding a wand. A very familiar wand.

"_Look what became of you as a result of following your chosen path, Tom_," Salazar said behind him in Parseltongue. "_This is Lord Voldemort. You weren't aware that making horcruxes changed the appearance? No, how could you. No one has ever tried to split their soul as many times as you did. It wasn't just the appearance that changed either… I know you are sickened by the state of this castle, Tom. Lord Voldemort didn't care. He was more insane than anyone ever realised. Is this really what you want to become_?"

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Lord Voldemort was supposed to be all powerful, immortal. This couldn't be him. And yet, something inside Tom remembered this. How the changes had happened gradually. How he hadn't cared because at least he didn't look like his Muggle father anymore. He had thought it would ensure his immortality. Why would you look like a mortal when you weren't?

But this wasn't immortality. This was Lord Voldemort and he was dead. Somehow, he had died, and been brought back to life.

Tom couldn't speak. He feared his stomach would reveal his state of nausea if he tried.

Salazar led him away from the group. They came to the bathroom again and Tom was almost too deep in his thoughts to realise they were moving down to the Chamber of Secrets. No one knew about the Chamber. Could this man really be Salazar?

Down in the Chamber, Salazar took Tom to a room he had never been to before. This one must have been Salazar's personal quarters. It was decorated in Slytherin colours, but the furniture was outdated. The bedding seemed to be made of straws and the shelves were carved into the stone. A robust table stood in a corner and the bench next to it was covered with green pillows. Tom guessed that a thousand years ago, all of these must have been luxury goods.

Salazar pushed Tom down on the bench and stood in front of him. "You destroyed yourself and this castle, Tom. But that's not all. With your death, my bloodline ended. We can't have that."

Tom stared at him. "If you really are Salazar Slytherin, how come you aren't dead?"

"I am dead, you stupid boy."

Tom ignored the insult. "Since when can dead people do magic?"

"I put my blood, magic and soul into building this castle. That's why I still have my magic, even though I'm dead. A part of me will always live on in Hogwarts."

Tom's brain worked fast. "I assume you are limited in some ways, if you are a ghost. You are tied to Hogwarts, so I guess that means you can't leave."

"Don't look so smug, boy. You won't be able to leave either. I brought you back from the dead, and if you don't do as I say, I'll let you go back to the land of the dead."

"I thought you said we couldn't have that, because of our bloodline?" Tom quickly inquired. He still wasn't sure he believed Salazar, however, when he tried to come up with some other explanation for all the strange things that were happening he drew a blank.

"Yes, but I used my magic to create you. You are tied to my will. If you test me, I will make you suffer."

Tom leant back, thinking. "What year is it?"

"1998."

"What happened to me? The other me, I mean."

"You thought you could defeat some Chosen One. You failed. You died." Salazar looked rather smug.

Tom frowned in annoyance. He still didn't want to believe he had died. "So why did you bring me back?"

"You don't realise how important our bloodline is. Only we have the abilities that are necessary to control Jörmungandr." Salazar said, clearly getting frustrated.

Tom blinked at him. "The what?"

"Your lack of knowledge of history, especially our family's history, is depressing."

"I wasn't raised by any family," Tom said coldly. "I did my best to find out everything I could about the Slytherin bloodline. Nowhere was there any mention of a Jörmundong or whatever."

"Jörmungandr," Salazar corrected him. "It's a name. The name of our ancestor's son, who has been asleep at the bottom of the sea for thousands and thousands of years. But the world is changing and if we don't stop it, he will awaken and bring Ragnarök upon us."

"Ragnarök," Tom repeated slowly. "Isn't that the end of the world in Norse mythology?"

"You are not completely ignorant then, that's good," Salazar said, nodding.

Tom grimaced. "It's not like I haven't read myths. There wasn't much else to do at the orphanage."

"The myths have been misrepresented over time. The Norse gods were wizards. Muggles thought them gods because of their powers, and treated them as such. But they became foolish, experimenting with powers no one should. Loki and Odin were the worst. Powerful wizards who challenged each other in magic.

"Loki wanted to create new, even more powerful creatures only he could control. He created the first werewolf, the Fenrir, and that curse is still spreading in our days. But the most dangerous and powerful thing he fathered was Jörmungandr, the Serpent of the World. A huge beast, which grew due to magic to encircle the whole world. When he moves, the world shakes and continents are flooded. When he was laid down into the sea, the earth flooded. There are stories about this in every corner of the world.

"Once the wizards of Asgard realised how dangerous the Serpent was, they put him into an enchanted sleep. Over the millennia, it has fallen upon our family to make sure the Serpent is kept asleep. The power to do so is in our blood. That's why we are the most powerful Parselmouths in the world."

Tom let the information sink in for a moment. He had no idea what to believe. It sounded ridiculous. To begin with, had the Norse gods even been real? However, if it was real, then having control of a Serpent that could destroy the world was rather … neat. That thought appealed to Tom, so he decided to play along until he found out more.

"Why is it down to our bloodline?" he asked.

"Our ancestor is Narfi, son of Loki. He was only a young boy when most of the Norse gods were killed, Loki included. He was raised by Heimdallr, the one who murdered Loki. Heimdallr was a seer, and he told Narfi about our family's responsibility, and every child since then has been taught the spells to enchant Jörmungandr. But it has been over two hundred years since anyone from our family has done it, and he is beginning to stir, deep down in the ocean. It's starting to cause natural catastrophes around the globe, and they will only increase if no one stops it. Thus, you have to do what Loki did to Odin. You have to get a Blood Brother."

"Why?"

"Because we don't have time for you to father a child, and I don't trust you to actually stop Jörmungandr from rising. But a Blood Brother would get the same powers you have, and the same responsibilities. We'll find someone righteous, powerful and brave. Once he is your Blood Brother, I'll be able to give him further instructions."

Tom crossed his arms. "And once I do that, you'll just send me back to die again? Why should I help you?"

Salazar held up his hand, and Tom felt as if someone was strangling him. He tried to reach Salazar to stop him, but a magical force was holding him down. Just as Tom was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Salazar let go.

Tom slumped back against the table behind him, inhaling deeply.

"My powers may be limited, but not when it comes to you, Tom Riddle," Salazar said harshly.

Tom looked away, grinding his teeth together. There was nothing he loathed as much as when people had power over him.

Salazar took Tom's chin in his hand, and forced Tom to look at him again. "However, when I don't need you anymore, I may let you go to do as you wish, if you have proven yourself worthy. You are still my heir."

Tom stared at Salazar, making up his mind. He may not have fully gripped what was going on, but he was sure that there was some way for him to get out of this. But he would probably have to lay low, just as he had done all his life at Hogwarts. He didn't think Salazar would be as easily fooled as his teachers had been, but even Salazar must have some weakness. Tom just had to wait to see what that was. Just making a Blood Brother was probably not too much work. He would just have to stall until he knew exactly what it meant.

"Very well," Tom finally said. "I'll help you."

Salazar kept holding his chin for a few seconds longer, studying him. Then he let go, and straightened. "Good. First thing we must do is establish your place here at Hogwarts. We'll find your Blood Brother here. Tomorrow, you'll go to Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress, and offer your services."

"Why?"

"Because it's your fault Hogwarts is in this state, so you should help repair it. You'll be a student who is of age. We'll say that you are from Sweden and want to finish your last year here and that you are willing to work for a spot. I've already planted some paperwork in the office; a request to transfer a student named Gus Dolder."

Tom stared at him in horror. "I'll be called Gus? Even Tom is better than that! Gus sounds like the name of a cat."

Salazar sighed. "It doesn't matter. You can be called Tom instead; it's easy enough to pretend that Gus is your second name."

"Good. But why do I have to be from Sweden? People will realise I'm not when they hear I can't speak Swedish."

"You know too little about the war to be a native, and it will take too much time to catch up on everything. If you are a foreigner, it will explain your lack of knowledge about certain things. Besides, Sweden has been neutral in the war, and wizards haven't been allowed to travel to Britain to help. And I speak Swedish; it's the only other language I've bothered to keep up-to-date with. I was born in the country that is now called Sweden. I doubt we'll meet anyone here who knows Swedish, and if someone asks you to say something in it, I'll be there to tell you what to say."

"You have been planning this for quite some time," Tom noted.

"I'm dead, it's not like I have anything else to do," Salazar said and then smiled. "Don't worry Tom, I'll be able to guard you all the time."


	2. Chapter 2

In celebration of Korra-day, here is chapter two! I'm really happy that the response has been so good! For those of you who have left anon reviews, you can find your replies here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

I want to thank Ozzy for betaing this chapter! What would I do without my trusted beta? Well, probably have more mistakes, but you know… here is a cookie!

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"_You mean you let him escape again?" his voice was high and cold._

"_M-master." A woman lay sobbing at his feet. "We had him but… it was Malfoy's old house-elf that—"_

"_I don't need your pitiful excuses, Bella," he interrupted her and aimed his wand at her._

_She screamed when the curse hit her. From around the dark room other cries were_ _heard. He looked up and saw two men slice another man to pieces. Somehow, he knew it was a werewolf. A werewolf could survive blood loss for_ _so much longer than humans. His suffering would be long and painful._

_In another corner, a whole family was being tortured. He would increase their pain once Bella had fallen unconscious. The blond woman of the family was trying to get to her son who was screaming in agony. She didn't even seem to be aware of the man who was whipping her back bloody…_

Tom woke up, his breath caught in his throat. What was that? He had a feeling it was something that had just happened, but hadn't Salazar said Voldemort had turned mad? Tom hadn't felt mad, in the dream-memory. As always, he had felt that inner pleasure that came with having complete control over someone, by torturing someone, by having their life at your mercy.

It had been an important punishment as well, not just some whim of a madman. His followers had let him down. Had Salazar lied to him about Voldemort's fate? It was strange that he would destroy Hogwarts, his home, but there could be a reason for that. So why was Salazar lying to him? Just to encourage him not to make Horcruxes? Well, Tom wouldn't be doing that again, regardless. Clearly, it hadn't worked.

Pushing the dream, or memory, to the back of his mind for now, he rose from the bed. Salazar was nowhere to be seen, so it was a good time to snoop around. Unfortunately he hadn't even managed to get to the shelves where the rolls of parchment lay before Salazar appeared in the room.

"Good, you are awake," he said. "It's just after seven, and a good time for you to make your appearance."

Tom sighed. Very well, if it meant he could start to have some control over things…

Salazar placed his hand on his shoulder and led him out of the room. "Remember, your name is Tom Gus Dolder. Since you are of age, you are at liberty to finish your education anywhere you want. Offer your services for a chance to complete your education."

As they walked up the stairs to the Headmistress' office, Tom hardly saw anyone. However, as they walked past a window, he saw a group of people standing around a fire. It appeared that they were cremating some of the deceased. Tom suppressed a shudder, knowing that his own body lay there somewhere. A body he didn't remember having…

When they neared the outside of the Headmistress's office, Salazar turned to him. "I've placed a very powerful charm over you. Everyone who has seen you before and knows you are Tom Riddle will not be able to remember where they have seen you. Just play along; say you have travelled a lot or something. I'm positive you'll be able to trick them."

Tom huffed. Of course he could.

Salazar sighed. "Well, here you go. Do not for a moment forget why I went through all this trouble getting you back, boy, and that I can tear you apart again if you displease me."

Tom rolled his eyes. "If this bloodline wasn't so important, you wouldn't have bothered to bring me back and therefore, you'll most likely hesitate to kill me."

That earned him a smack on the back of his head. "I can make you wish you were dead. Now go!"

Wanting to get as far away from his ancestor as possible, Tom quickly climbed the stairs. He was very annoyed to see that when he knocked on the Headmistress' door, Salazar was already behind him. It appeared that the great and mighty Salazar Slytherin didn't trust him to do this alone.

"Enter," came a tired voice.

Tom opened the door and stepped in. The office looked bare. There were only the regular bookshelves, portraits of the former Headmasters and a desk. Otherwise, the room had been stripped of all personal belongings Tom had seen throughout his years at Hogwarts.

An old woman was sitting behind the desk. Tom's eyes widened. Last time he had seen Minerva McGonagall, she had been a tall proud eighteen-year-old with her long dark hair always in a ponytail. She had often smiled when she talked to her friends, but her nose crinkled when she was telling someone off. The woman sitting behind the desk could not be Minerva McGonagall.

Still, when she looked up from a piece of parchment, Tom knew it was her. The eyes were still the same, even if they were hallowed and tired now. For a moment, she frowned, as if she was trying to place him. However, Salazar's spell seemed to have been effective because she closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head slightly.

"Yes?"

"Hello, madam," Tom said, trying not to sound like a Londoner. "My name is Tom Dolder. I have heard about the final battle and at first I'd like to offer my congratulations, as well as condolences for the ones you've lost."

"Thank you, Mr Dolder," McGonagall said, her voice sounding much older and weaker than he remembered. "I'm Professor McGonagall."

Tom gave her his most friendly smile. "I've heard a great deal about you, Professor. In fact, I've heard about most of the teachers here. It has been a dream of mine for a long time to be a student at Hogwarts."

McGonagall's expression changed and she became more guarded. "I see."

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, Professor, I haven't come here to ask for a position as a student," Tom said quickly. "Once I heard about the battle and the defeat of … You-Know-Who, I was tremendously happy and relieved. I'm from Sweden and I believe you are aware of our government's reluctance to take a side in the war and send any people to Britain? Yes, well, now that the war is over, we are allowed to travel here again. I took the first Portkey I could find. I know it isn't much, but I've come here to offer my assistance. I'm good at both Transfiguration and Potions. I could help with both, the rebuilding of the school and healing."

As he spoke, he saw McGonagall's face flash with relief.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Mr Dolder," she said. "I cannot turn down an extra hand. Especially not if you are talented in Potions. Merlin knows we need all the healing potions we can get. However, I'm afraid I can't promise you anything in return."

"Oh, I didn't count on it," Tom interrupted quickly. "I am disgusted by how cowardly my Ministry has acted. If it was up to me … oh, never mind. I just want to help, if I can."

McGonagall smiled weakly. "Well, as I said, I can't say no to a helping hand. Down in the dungeons you'll find Professor Slughorn and some other students brewing the potions which are required most. I'm sure he will be able to determine if you can help him. Ask for the way if you can't find it."

"Thank you, madam," Tom said with a small bow.

"Were you born with a silver tongue?" Salazar asked, once they were on their way down to the dungeons.

Tom sighed. "Teachers are easy to fool. If Hogwarts remains open, she will offer me a position. Her Gryffindor pride won't be able to accept being in debt. Can you leave me alone now? Isn't it bad enough that I have to help the people who murdered the old me?"

Salazar arched an eyebrow. "I can't trust you, Tom. You are stuck with me."

Sullen, but not saying anything, Tom stalked down to the dungeon.

He came down and opened the door to what had been his Potions classroom. Apparently, it was still in function because Professor Slughorn was standing behind three cauldrons. He seemed to just have finished a batch because he was slowly measuring the potion to put into small jars. At another station stood a girl with frizzy brown hair twisted into a bun at the top of the head. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she concentrated on her two cauldrons.

The third person in the room was also working with two cauldrons, but he seemed even more tired than the other two. This was very surprising, considering that he looked like a Malfoy. Tom had known Abraxas quite well and kept in contact with him even after the older boy had left Hogwarts. Abraxas had been a snob and would never have worked himself to the edge of exhaustion. Yet, this boy was dirty and sweaty, his face grey with exhaustion. How peculiar.

Just then, Slughorn finished and noticed Tom standing there. Just like McGonagall, he seemed to try to place him but gave up with a sigh.

"Yes? If Pomfrey sent you to nag at me—" Slughorn started, sounding tired and annoyed.

"Oh, no, Professor," Tom said quickly. "McGonagall sent me down here to help you."

The relief was clear on the old man's face. "Can you do a Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

Tom nodded.

"Excellent, excellent. Would you mind taking over Mr Malfoy's station? I believe he is at the third step already." Slughorn walked over to Malfoy's batch and nodded. "Very good, Draco. I'll take you to your common room. Perhaps your mother has been healed enough to help now. She was an excellent brewer when she was in school."

The boy, Draco, seemed almost ready to faint. Slughorn gathered the jars he had filled and with a firm grip on Draco's shoulder, led him out of the dungeon. Tom, not seeing an alternative, glanced down at the recipe Draco had followed. He had made Blood-Replenishing Potions before, but he didn't know the instructions by heart. However, he was quite sure Draco had just added the moonstone which meant he would have to wait until the potion turned blue, then he would add the marigolds.

It took another hour and a half to finish the potion. Once he had filled the empty jars standing on the table in front of him, he looked up. The other girl was sitting a few yards away from him, staring unseeingly into space. He recognised the potion in the first cauldron as Skele-Gro. It was a boring potion to make. You had to wait three hours for it to mature. However, the girl appeared to have just finished a batch of Sleeping Draught. Jars containing the purple fluid were standing on the table next to her. Before her lay neatly cut ingredients which he guessed would go into a wound-cleaning potion. However, the second cauldron was empty.

"Do you need help?" Tom asked, figuring it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be friendly and make potions at the moment.

The girl blinked and looked up at him, surprised. "What?"

He nodded at the ingredients. "Aren't you going to start on the potion?"

She sighed, then stood up. "Yes. I was just taking a small break."

Tom frowned. Had he offended her? "I can help you if you want. I just finished mine."

"No, that will not be necessary," she said shortly. "If you are finished, I suggest you begin with a new potion. Madam Pomfrey needs everything we can make."

"Okay," Tom mumbled. If the ungrateful girl didn't want his help, he wouldn't force her. He started to prepare an anti-infection potion.

A blond woman stepped through the door with Slughorn. They spoke in low voices for a while, before the woman conjured up her own station and started working. Slughorn took the potions Tom and the girl had finished and left. Twenty minutes later, he came back and started to work again.

Tom didn't mind making healing potions, but after a couple of hours he was very bored by it. He finished the anti-infection potion and looked around the room. Salazar had disappeared somewhere, to his surprise and relief. Perhaps this was an opportunity to get away from his ancestor? He just needed an excuse to leave.

The girl he had talked to before was ashen with fatigue and yet she kept working with deep concentration. It didn't take him many seconds to work out a plan to get himself out of here and hopefully find out more about the battle.

He walked up to Slughorn and successfully managed to turn his attention towards the girl.

"Miss Granger," Slughorn said warmly to the girl. "You have done excellent work, but now you need to take a break."

The girl, Granger, looked up with wide eyes. "But, sir! People are still dying! I can't…"

Slughorn came over to her and led her away from her station. "You have already saved many lives today, Hermione. Now you need to rest. Did you get any sleep at all this night?"

"A little," she mumbled.

"Now, you and Mr… er, sorry, I don't believe we were introduced?" Slughorn looked at Tom.

"Dolder," Tom said quickly. "Tom Dolder." Such a horrible name.

"Ah, well, Hermione, why don't you and Mr Dolder get something to eat, and then I don't want you coming down here again until you have had a good night's sleep. We have almost run out of most ingredients as it is. Mrs Malfoy and I will finish what we can today. Hopefully, we will have new ones by tomorrow," Slughorn said in a final tone.

Reluctantly, Granger nodded. Without looking at Tom, she started to walk out of the dungeon.

Tom frowned. Why was she so unfriendly? He wasn't used to people, especially girls, just ignoring him. He followed her.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, as he came to walk beside her.

She sent him an annoyed glance. "Why are you following me? Who are you anyway?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "I'm Tom Dolder. I'm from Sweden. I came here this morning when I heard about the fight. I thought I could help."

"Help?" For some reason, Granger looked furious. "Sorry to ruin it for you, Dolder, but you are a year too late! If you wanted to help, you would have come when they were sending Muggle-borns to Azkaban, or when Death Eaters were taking over this school, or when innocent people were being murdered!"

She stalked away. Tom was stunned. The girl clearly had issues and was projecting her anger towards him. However, you didn't treat Tom Riddle like a punching bag. He strode over to her again and grabbed her shoulder.

"Look, Granger, I didn't come here to be yelled at! If you—" he stopped. The girl's face had gone completely white. The next moment, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she passed out.

Tom quickly caught her, cursing. He rummaged in his pocket for his wand, so that he could levitate the girl up to the infirmary. It wasn't there. Curse it! Salazar still hadn't given him a wand. He would have to take that up with his ancestor sooner rather than later. People would definitely start to ask questions if they found him without a wand.

Swearing under his breath, he looked down at the girl in his arms. Well, it wouldn't hurt his good-boy image if he carried the girl to the infirmary. People would think he was friendly and worthy of a position here. It wouldn't hurt to try.

The girl didn't weigh much, he noted as he carried her up the stairs. However, she was still heavy enough for him to work up a sweat. By the time he came to the infirmary, he was breathing hard. Once inside the infirmary, he scanned the room, but saw that there was no place to put her. Judging by the state most of the patients seemed to be in, there wouldn't be a bed free for quite some time. A middle-aged woman, who appeared to be under a lot of stress, came up to him.

"Collapsed?" she asked.

Tom nodded.

The woman looked around with a grimace. "I don't have any spare beds here. I'll transfigure one in the classroom right here. Would you mind staying with her until she wakes up? Make sure she has something to eat and drink once she does." The woman sighed. "Or maybe one of her friends will come by, then I'll send them to you. However, that will probably take some time. Potter left with McGonagall a while ago."

Tom didn't hear the rest. Potter! A cold fury rose in his chest. How he despised that boy! Although, he couldn't really remember why. Just that the boy needed to suffer and die. Perhaps it was best to stay with Granger for now. If she was friends with this Potter, maybe he could figure out why he hated him so.

The woman led him across the corridor and transformed a school desk into a bed. He put Granger down on top of it.

"Just call if she seems to need anything," the woman said, and then quickly hurried back to the other room.

Tom pulled out a chair from another school desk, and sat down next to Granger. Right then, Salazar appeared again on the other side of her bed.

"Already bedding girls, Tom?" he asked, looking amused.

Tom sent him a dark glare. "She collapsed. I had to carry her up here, and then the nurse wanted me to keep a watch on her. I need a wand."

Salazar sighed. "I suppose you do." However, he didn't look very happy when he reached inside his robe and removed a long black wand. "Take this."

Tom accepted the wand, and was very relieved when he felt its power surge through him. The wand seemed to have accepted him. To test it, he transfigured a pen into a glass and filled it with water. It worked perfectly. On closer inspection, he saw that the handle was engraved with serpents that had tiny runes on their bodies.

"Whose wand is this?" he asked, curious.

"Mine. Don't break it."

Tom transfigured a holster for the wand, which he placed on his left arm, before sticking the wand into it.

"The people here are talking about other people and seem to expect me to know who they are," Tom said casually, pretending to just make small-talk. "Like Potter. Some people have talked about him. Who is he?"

Salazar eyed him in a way that told Tom he hadn't been fooled. "Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. You tried to murder him when he was a baby. He survived. He was later labelled 'The Chosen One', destined to kill Lord Voldemort. He did that yesterday. He is the hero of the Wizarding World."

Tom felt anger surge in his stomach. How could a boy have killed him? Well, that was something he would find out later. "And this girl? I've only heard she is called Granger."

"Yes, Hermione Granger, Mudblood extraordinaire, Potter's best friend, cleverest witch Hogwarts has ever seen, and so on."

"A Mudblood is the cleverest witch at Hogwarts?" Tom asked, grimacing.

"You'll have to get over your disgust. At this time, voicing such opinions will have people believing you are a Death Eater, and you'll be taken in for questioning," Salazar said, much to Tom's surprise. Hadn't Salazar been known for his hatred of Muggles and Mudbloods?

"What on earth is a Death Eater?" he asked instead.

"Lord Voldemort's followers," Salazar replied. "You don't want to let anyone think you share any views similar to them. It will make your work here much harder."

Tom sighed, but he saw what Salazar meant. If the Muggle-loving side had won, he had better pretend to be like them if he wanted to fit in. At least he wouldn't have to actually meet any Muggles. He hated Muggles more than he hated Mudbloods. At least Mudbloods had magic and could assimilate into the Wizarding World. He didn't care about them. It was the ones that insisted on bringing their Muggle ways with them that he couldn't stand. Why would anyone want to have anything Muggle when they could live in a magical world instead?

Granger suddenly started to stir on the bed. She opened her eyes, and blinked a few times before sitting up. Her eyes fell on Tom, and she frowned.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding just as unfriendly as she had before she had collapsed.

Tom rose, feeling aggravated. "You fainted of exhaustion. For some strange reason, I didn't feel it was right to leave you on the floor in the dungeon, so I took you up to the hospital wing, but since there was no room there, the nurse transfigured a bed here and asked me to watch over you until you woke up. I'm so sorry, I'll leave at once."

He began stalking out of the room, but stopped when she called.

"Wait!"

He turned around, arms crossed.

"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to be rude, I'm just … well, we have all had it hard, I guess. But that's no reason to take it out on you. Sorry."

Tom regarded her, but she seemed genuinely sorry. Well, if she was Potter's friend, then he wanted to talk to her to find out more about Potter. Somehow, he would make sure Potter had an accident sooner or later.

"I guess that's understandable," he said slowly. "But I'm here to help; not to be used as a punching bag."

She grimaced. "You are right, I was rude. Let's just start over. I'm Hermione Granger."

Tom went back to her and took her outstretched hand. "Tom Dolder."

"Right. Did you say you were from Sweden?"

Tom nodded. "I just came here this morning."

"You speak excellent English," she said, probably to make up for how rude she had been before.

"Well, I've spoken it all my life," Tom said. It would be too hard to explain why he didn't have a Swedish accent, and it was too late to start faking one now. "I'm half-British. My mum emigrated."

"Oh, nice." She seemed rather uncomfortable.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Tom asked. "Or drink?"

"Yes, I think I should eat something," she said. "Nothing too heavy, though. Just some toast."

Tom was about to turn around again, to go and find some house-elf with the order, but before he had even made it to the door, one popped in with a plate full of toast and a flask of pumpkin juice. Tom glanced at Salazar who just smiled.

"Wow, Hogwarts has great service," Tom said, pretending to be surprised as the house-elf popped out again.

"I guess Pomfrey sent for them," Granger said, as she took a piece of bread and began nibbling at the edge of it.

Tom realised he was hungry too (he hadn't had anything since that morning), so he sat down on the chair again, reaching for the plate on Granger's bed.

They ate in silence for a while; Tom knowing he shouldn't intrude, and Hermione seemingly uncomfortable with him.

"So," she finally said slowly, once she had finished the first slice of toast. "What's Sweden like?"

"Oh, er, lots of trees," he answered. He had never been to Sweden. Not that he could remember anyway. He did get an image of a screaming child in the middle of a forest. Perhaps his old self had murdered someone there? Because he was quite sure the flashes he got now and again were memories from his former life. "It's nothing special. I grew up about seventy kilometres from the Norwegian border." He made sure to store this knowledge in his mind so he could repeat the same lie to everyone.

"Sounds nice," she said.

"Yeah. Where did you grow up?" he asked. If she didn't ask too much, he wouldn't have to come up with too many lies.

"On the south coast. Poole, if you know where it is."

"Somewhat. How old are you? Have you already graduated?"

Granger made a grimace. "I'm eighteen. Will be nineteen in the fall. I should have graduated, well, now, but with the war … I'll just have to do my last year this fall instead. If they manage to open Hogwarts again. What about you?"

"I became seventeen in December," he answered, figuring it was almost true. "I had hoped to do my final year here at Hogwarts, but they seldom take transfer students. So I guess I have an ulterior motive for helping as well. But if they can't open the school, or if they choose not to take me in, I'll just go back to Sweden in the fall and finish my last year there."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Well, if they decide to open the school in the fall, I can put in a good word for you. I was a prefect in my fifth and sixth year. You did do a good job with those potions."

He smiled at her. "I'd appreciate that. I really want to finish my education here." That, at least, was completely true. Even if he knew most of what the teachers were lecturing about, Hogwarts could still teach him things. For one, he hadn't read every book in the library yet. Considering that he had just skipped fifty years forward in time, there was bound to be a lot of new knowledge there.

The door opened, and a black-haired young man with glasses entered. He looked relieved when he saw Hermione. Tom felt a stab of fury go through him.

"Harry!" Hermione said, at once sounding much happier.

Tom kept his emotions hidden. So this was the boy who had managed to kill Lord Voldemort. How humiliating. He really had to find a way to avenge himself.

"There you are Hermione!" Potter came up to them and hugged the girl. "Madam Pomfrey said you collapsed."

"I'm okay," Granger assured the boy. "This is Tom Dolder. He helped me. Tom, this is Harry Potter."

Tom shook hands with Potter. "I guess I have to congratulate you on the defeat of You-Know-Who?"

Potter didn't smile. "I just did what had to be done."

Tom really didn't like Potter. However, he put on a amiable face. "Well, if you are feeling better, Hermione, I think I should get going and see if I can help with something else."

He could tell by Potter's expression that he wanted to speak to Granger by himself, and since he was still just a stranger to them, it would make a much better impression if he didn't seem too eager to learn all their secrets at once. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"Thank you for your help, Tom," Granger said and gave him a weak smile. "I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Potter nodded at him and Tom left the room.

Salazar was right behind him as he made his way back to the dungeons.

"Don't even think about it, boy," Salazar suddenly said.

"Think about what?" Tom asked, but he was quite sure he knew what Salazar was referring to.

"This is no time to avenge your death. We have more important things to do. In fact, Potter would make a good Blood Brother. And he already has some history speaking Parseltongue, so it wouldn't be as strange as it would be if someone else suddenly starts speaking it."

Tom stopped and stared at his ancestor. "No! You're already asking too much of me by telling me to ignore him. You can't make me some Blood Brother to him. There has to be someone else!"

Salazar regarded him, but then sighed. "In this regard, you are right. I don't want you two killing each other."

Tom exhaled in relief. It seemed like Salazar didn't want to drive him insane after all.


	3. Chapter 3

It's time for chapter three! As always, I want to thank Ozzy for betaing this story. *Snuggles and kisses Ozzy*. I also want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, faved or in any other way expressed their likings of this fic! You are the best!

Anon review replies can be found here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Hermione forced herself to eat breakfast and saw Harry doing the same thing. If other people hadn't been there as well, watching over them, she doubted they would have eaten anything. Even though she knew she had to eat, with everything that had happened, eating was just as hard to do as sleeping.

Just a week had passed since the battle, and she had spent most of that time down in the dungeons, making potions. The Swede, Tom, was there often as well, but they rarely had time to talk. She didn't know what to think of him. He was always polite, and one of the most handsome men Hermione had ever seen, but there was just something about him that felt … off. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was just the war making her very distrustful of people, or maybe there really was something wrong.

However, since he was friendly and helpful, she had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. When she saw him enter the kitchen, she waved him over to come and join her and Harry.

"Good morning," Tom greeted them as he sat down at the opposite side of the table. The house-elves had rearranged the kitchen, so that instead of it being a copy of the Great Hall, small square tables had been placed all around, and people could sit wherever they wanted.

"Morning," Harry grunted.

"Hi," Hermione said. "Sleep well?"

Tom shrugged. "Better than most, I would expect. How about you?"

Hermione just shrugged, and Harry seemed more interested in his tea cup than being in a conversation.

"I see," Tom said. "Well, we are brewing more Potion for Dreamless Sleep today. Professor Slughorn said he had got the new ingredients."

"That's good."

Even though she tried to be as polite as she could, Hermione couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

As he spread butter onto the toast, evening its thickness, without soiling his fingers, she realised what it was that bugged her. He was _too_ perfect. Everything he did was done with a grace and precision that seemed out of this world. It didn't matter whether he was brewing a potion or, like now, preparing his food. It was the same with his looks. His skin was pale and smooth and seemed to never have had any pimples at all; his black hair looked effortless and yet perfect; his robes were immaculate, without wrinkles and laid perfectly over his body. His dark brown eyes were completely unreadable, and often blank. In the past week, she hadn't seen him express any other emotion besides mild amusement or concentration.

There could of course be an explanation other than that he was hiding something. He could just be a neurotic perfectionist; Merlin knows she knew how that felt. But at the same time … no, there was something that didn't add up.

"Have you planned to stay here for the whole summer?" Hermione asked. She decided that the only way she would figure out the riddle that was Tom, was to talk to him.

"I guess I'll stay here for as long as they have use of me. Then we'll see."

"What about your parents? Won't they miss you?" Hermione asked.

For a moment, she saw a flash of something in his eyes. Could it be sorrow?

"No, I don't think they will. Besides, I'm of age now, so I can go wherever I please," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"Oh, I see," Hermione said, wondering what had happened to his parents, but decided it wasn't her place to ask right now. He didn't seem comfortable with the subject.

"What about you? Do you plan on doing something else this summer?" Tom asked.

At once, Hermione started to think about her own parents, and was saddened. Should she find them and restore their memories? Yes, she probably should. But not now. Not yet. If she saw her parents now, she would turn into an emotional mess. She had to gain some distance from the war. Besides, she was needed here.

"I don't know. We have so much to do here first," Hermione said, pushing those thoughts away. She knew she would have to deal with them sooner or later, but she just couldn't right now.

"Indeed," Tom said.

The tense silence stretched between them again. Luckily, Hermione was saved from having to come up with some other subject by Ron and Ginny appearing in the doorway. She waved at them, and they came over. After Fred's funeral five days ago, Ron and Ginny had spent some time with their family. Hermione and Harry had been welcome to join them, but they had felt like it was best to let the Weasley family grieve in peace.

She hugged both of them when they came over, before introducing them to Tom.

Ginny frowned when she saw him.

"Why does it feel like I know you from somewhere?" she asked, as they sat down at the table.

Tom frowned and studied her. "I don't know. Maybe we have run into each other somewhere? I've been in Britain a lot of times before, and visited all the wizarding places."

Ginny shrugged. "Welcome to Hogwarts, I guess."

"Thank you. I'm sorry to see it in such a state, though. I hope we'll be able to rebuild it. I've seen pictures of what it used to look like … such a shame."

The others nodded.

"Well, I'll go and start with the potions, I'll see you later, Hermione," Tom said and rose. He nodded at the others, and they all watched him go.

"Who was that?" Ron asked, and Hermione thought she detected a hint of jealousy.

"Just someone from Sweden who came here wanting to help out," Hermione said, shrugging.

"There is something about him I don't like," Harry suddenly said.

"Yeah, I get that feeling too," Ron quickly agreed, but didn't seem to say it for the same reason as Harry had.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron _was_ jealous. She hoped he wouldn't be too annoying about it, though. After their kiss at the final battle, she thought that they had a chance of becoming something. She had liked Ron for ages, and she wanted to see if there was something there. However, she wasn't blind to his weaknesses, one of which was his lack of confidence. Honestly, just because she knew another boy didn't mean she was going to fall in love with him!

"Probably because he is more handsome than you two put together," Ginny said and winked at Hermione. "I don't know, he seems friendly enough. What do you think, Hermione?"

Ron scowled at his sister, but looked at Hermione with interest.

"I don't know," Hermione said with a shrug. "He is polite and all that, but I'm not really looking to make new friends right now."

Ron seemed pleased with the answer, and the conversation moved on to other subjects before they went their separate ways to work.

Hermione spent the day making more potions with Tom, but there was little room to talk; they were both focused on their work. Whenever she paused, she found herself glancing over at him, studying him.

His cutting, steering and pouring were all perfect and smooth. She didn't remember seeing anyone that was this good since Snape. He must be a natural then, she decided. Was he as good with a wand? She had hardly seen him use it.

There was something about him that had her on her guard and curious at the same time, she realised.

After lunch, Hermione was asked to help with transfiguration instead. The Malfoys were back to help with the potion-making, so she was of more use elsewhere.

It wasn't until after dinner that they got a break, and Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Ron finally got to sit down in the newly repaired Gryffindor tower. They would be alone there for the night.

"It looks the same, doesn't it?" Ginny asked, looking around from her position on one of the sofas, leaning against Harry. They seemed to have casually tried to take up their relationship again after the war.

"It's like I remember it," Ron said. He and Hermione was sitting next to each other on the opposite sofa, but not touching. "Perhaps we should have redecorated while we were at it?"

"Yes, turned it all blue, and seen how people reacted," Ginny said with a weak smile.

Hermione and Harry smiled as well, but it was forced. She wondered how long it would take before things went back to normal between them all. Perhaps it would be better if they talked about it? Had a good cry, comforted and found strength in each other?

Yet, for some reason, Hermione couldn't bring it up herself.

"Merlin, I think I need some air," Ginny suddenly said. "Harry, will you join me?"

Harry looked slightly puzzled, but he nodded and they left. Hermione smiled. Maybe it would be easier for them to be together, alone. They could work through it together, comfort each other. Ginny probably wanted to talk about their situation. Hermione hoped Harry was ready to have that talk. The two of them were meant to be together, and now, they finally had time to see that as well.

"Hermione?"

Ron snapped her back to the real world. She smiled at him. "Sorry, I was thinking."

He smiled. She noticed he was nervous. Did it mean he wanted to do something? All of a sudden, Hermione craved some comfort as well. Just being close to someone, and knowing there were still good things in the world. Perhaps now was a good moment to just … continue what they had started at the final battle? Find comfort in each other, physically?

Should she take the first step? Or did he regret kissing her and wanted to tell her this couldn't be? She became nervous as well.

"So...," she said and placed her hand so it was accessible for him, if he wanted to take it.

Ron took her hand and she let out the breath she had been holding, as their fingers started to play with each other. Although, a whole new sort of nervousness began in her stomach.

"I...," Ron began, but then quietened. "How have you been? I mean, really?"

Hermione was touched by his concern. "I've managed. One day at a time, you know. Just trying to keep myself occupied so I don't think too much. How about you?"

Ron was quiet for a while. "I really miss him."

He didn't need to say it out loud for her to know whom he was referring to. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"I just can't believe he's gone. Every time I see George, I expect Fred to be right behind him, but he never is." Ron had clearly been holding this inside for some time now. Hermione squeezed his hand harder, encouraging him to go on. He needed to talk about it. Too often did he keep things in. Mostly, she guessed, because he wasn't sure of what to say. It would do him good to let some of it out now.

"George can't even look at himself in the mirror without getting sad. Hell, we can't even look at him without being reminded of Fred! That's why Ginny and I decided to come here for a while ... not much we can do there." Ron swallowed.

Hermione leaned in closer so he could hug her if he wanted. He did. She felt something wet hit her shoulder, but just stroked his back. Tears were healthy in times like this. It was good for him to let them out. Hopefully he wouldn't let some idea about macho boys not crying stop him.

She wasn't aware of how long they sat there, but after a while, Ron began to press her closer to him. She moved from her seat over to his lap and they began kissing. It wasn't the best kiss, but it was sweet and she could feel how much Ron needed it. He pawed at her body and managed to find one or two very pleasurable spots, but unfortunately didn't stay there for too long. However, Hermione was in the time of the month where she could become horny quite easily. Or maybe it was just the need for comfort. Either way, she wanted to get on with it.

It didn't take long until they were both naked and lying down on the sofa, on their sides, facing each other. Ron was rock hard and already trying to find her opening with his cock, as his hands were occupied with her breasts. Hermione sighed and moved her hand down to his cock. She frowned when she realised how thick he was. She wasn't wet enough to take this inside of her! Although, that could easily be fixed. She moved his cock toward her cunt and started to rub against him, creating some fiction on her clit. Unfortunately, this was too much for Ron and he came against her pubic hair.

They lay together for a moment, Hermione feeling very unsatisfied. Even though she could understand that Ron was inexperienced and couldn't stop himself from coming all over her, it didn't stop him from pleasuring her with his hands. Should she tell him that? Hm, maybe not this time. He was very upset after all. There would be plenty of time on later occasions. She was sure she could teach him what she liked.

"That was good," he suddenly said. "Don't you think?"

Hermione frowned. Did Ron really think that had been good for her? A thought suddenly struck her. Maybe this was his first time! Then he wouldn't know what was good or bad. She did not trust the older Weasley brothers to have given him a correct picture. They would laugh at the thought of him making a fool of himself in bed.

Nevertheless, you shouldn't lie in a relationship. Especially not about something as important as sex.

"Not really," she finally answered.

Ron's eyes snapped opened. "What?"

She frowned. "Well, I didn't come, so I didn't enjoy it very much. But for a first time—"

"What do you mean 'for a first time'?" he demanded.

Hermione sighed. Perhaps she should have seen this coming. Ron always became so upset when he thought there was something he couldn't do. "I'm just saying, it takes time to get to know a woman's body, but you get the idea eventually—"

Ron sat up. "Lavender never complained! Seriously, Hermione, not everyone can reach the high standards you have for everything!"

Hermione was hurt. "I don't think its a high standard making a woman come while having sex—"

"Well, then you shouldn't be so slow coming!" Ron hissed.

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione snapped, getting angry as well. "No one is great at sex at once; I just thought I should point out what we could work on to improve it."

"This isn't a bloody school-test!" Ron retorted. "I just thought I would be nice and make sure you weren't the last virgin at Hogwarts!"

Hermione gaped at him, hardly believing what she was hearing. She pushed him off of her and rose. "Well, if that was all this was, you could have saved yourself the trouble! I haven't been a virgin for a long time now!"

She became even angrier when she saw how surprised Ron was after he heard this. She put on her clothes and stormed out of the dorm.

xxx

Tom was very bored. For the past week, all he had done was help at Hogwarts, and tried (and failed) to find a way out of Salazar's grasp. His ancestor was with him most of the day, hanging back in the shadows, making sure he didn't create any trouble. Not that Tom knew what sort of trouble he could make. He was still trying to find out what had happened in the world for the past fifty years.

It had been easy enough to find books about the Wizarding World's history, but he was constantly met with references he didn't understand. A lot of the cultural things, he could brush off by being a "foreigner", however, it seemed as if there were Muggle things to keep track of as well. He had spoken to a Hufflepuff, while working the day before, who had talked about something called a "computer". Tom had no idea what it meant, but according to the Hufflepuff, it was some cool Muggle contraption which wizards could benefit from using.

Tom highly doubted that there was anything the Muggles could do that would be of benefit to wizards, but he had just smiled and nodded along.

It was all Salazar's fault that Tom had been talking to the Hufflepuff to begin with. Salazar wanted him to test different wizards to find out which one would be worthy of being his Blood Brother. Thus far, no one had pleased Salazar, much to Tom's satisfaction.

"Why aren't we testing witches as well?" Tom finally asked, when they had been through every male that was helping at Hogwarts during the summer. He was on his way back to the room he had been assigned on the fifth floor.

"Witches?" Salazar snorted. "They would just run away at the sight of Jörmungandr. They aren't built to handle this sort of thing."

Tom arched an eyebrow at his ancestor. "Only Muggles are that sexist. Witches are in general as useful as wizards when it comes to magical power."

He recalled the witch he had dreamed about again, Bella, he had called her. He still wasn't sure exactly who she was, but in his dreams, she had been his devoted follower for a long time. Yes, he was well aware of how powerful and useful witches could be.

They were just walking up the stairs to the fifth floor when he saw Granger storm down the stairs from the sixth floor. She looked absolutely furious, and her hair seemed to be standing in all directions, crackling with magic.

"Hermione? Has something happened?" he asked, stopping on the landing to the fifth floor.

Hermione looked as if she was ready to hex him. He could feel the magic building up inside of her. He readied himself to draw his wand and cast a shield if needed. However, all she did was inhale deeply.

"Ron fucking Weasley happened. I'll have to talk to you some other time, Tom," she said, and continued to storm down the stairs.

Tom watched her until she turned a corner and disappeared. A plan had started to form in his head. He didn't know if it was just because he wanted to annoy Salazar by using a Mudblood witch to control the Serpent of the World, or because he could use the powerful Gryffindor to get his revenge on Potter. However, it was now clear to him who he wanted to share a blood bond with.

"As I was saying," he said, turning to Salazar. "Perhaps we could look into the alternative of getting a Blood Sister instead?"

Salazar had also watched the Mudblood, but now he was eyeing Tom thoughtfully.

"She is clearly powerful enough, and has that power under control," Tom continued. "And she gave up everything to defeat me so I think it's safe to say she would feel obligated to save the world, and then make sure the bloodline continues."

Salazar wrinkled his nose. "She's a Mudblood."

"She'll share my blood, will she not? Then she won't be a Mudblood anymore," Tom reasoned. "Isn't it more important that she is powerful enough? And she fought in the war, so I don't think a big snake is going to scare her."

Salazar eyed him suspiciously. "You don't like Mudbloods anymore than I do, Tom. What are you planning?"

Tom sighed. "Well, it's clear that we are not going to find any worthy Blood Brother at Hogwarts anytime soon. And I want this taken care of as soon as possible, so I won't have to be followed by you all the time. I can overlook her Mudblood status for that."

Salazar gazed down the stairs, where the girl had just disappeared. "I will look into her history."

Tom hid a smile. Salazar could clearly see that Tom was right, and that made him unhappy. That in turn, left a very, very pleased Tom.

xxx

For the next couple of days, Hermione and Ron didn't talk to each other. Hermione buried herself in the chores McGonagall gave her, and didn't eat at the same table as Ron. Harry didn't seem to understand what had happened, but he still tried to make peace.

"Can't you just talk it out?" he asked one morning at breakfast. He seemed to alternate between spending one meal with her and the other with Ron, making sure not to take a side.

"Not until he has apologised," Hermione growled, stabbing her fork into her mashed eggs.

Harry looked very uncomfortable and stared down at his tea cup.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "He wants me to apologise, doesn't he?"

Harry sighed and looked up. "Yeah."

Hermione pushed her plate away from her and rose. "No. He was the one who insulted me and I won't take it anymore. I don't have to take it. I'll see you later."

She stalked out of the kitchen and made her way outside through a secret passage, fuming. Of course Ron would continue to be an immature brat about this. Why was she even surprised? Truth be told, she was more disappointed than anything. After everything they had been through together, this was how he was behaving now? She knew he had a fragile ego, but did that mean she constantly had to reassure him about everything? She didn't want to have a relationship with someone like that.

The secret passage lead her to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where she continued to walk alongside it. She was too angry to start working for the day, but with a brisk walk she could probably calm down enough to concentrate on the restoration.

She had just come out of view of Hogwarts when she was attacked. Her wand was snatched from her pocket and she was sent flying backwards. Completely taken by surprised, Hermione tried to scramble to her feet, but her attacker immobilised her.

Lying stiffly on the ground, face down, she felt herself being magically lifted and levitated towards the Forbidden Forest, floating just a few inches above the ground.

She tried to summon her own magic to break free of the spell, but when that didn't work, she decided to wait. Whoever it was that had kidnapped her clearly wanted something from her, or she would have been dead already. She didn't look forward to being tortured again, but if she had been able to trick Bellatrix Lestrange, she could probably fool whoever had her now. Besides, if they stayed within the school grounds, casting the Unforgivables would alert the Headmistress.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that they had entered the Forbidden Forest. However, they didn't travel far until she was dumped on the ground again and flipped over.

Hermione finally glimpsed her attacker.

It was that Swedish boy, Tom Dolder. But why on earth would he want to attack her?

"So what do I do now?" Tom asked, looking at someone out of her sight.

Hermione stared at him. Who was he working with?

"How much blood?" Tom suddenly asked, and Hermione's eyes widened. Had the person behind her said something? Why hadn't she heard that?

Tom kneeled next to her, and a knife appeared in his hand as he reached for her wrist. Hermione steeled herself. At least knives didn't hurt as much as the Cruciatus Curse.

Just before the knife was going to cut into her arm, he paused and looked up again, a frown of annoyance on his face.

"Why didn't you say so at once? How deep?"

Hermione could feel her heart speed up even more. It was very unnerving that she didn't know who else was there, and that she couldn't hear that person. Or persons.

Tom stuck the knife into the ground just under her arm and dug a hole. That baffled Hermione. Why was he digging a hole in the ground with the knife? Come to think of it, the knife looked very special. She couldn't see it clearly because of the angle, but she was sure there were some engravings on the handle. A ceremonial knife, probably. And if he was going to need blood, it had to be a dark ritual. No one used blood rituals for good things anymore, like marriages. It was considered old-fashioned since you could never break a blood bond, and a modern couple wanted the option of a divorce.

She tried to remember every dark blood ritual she had read about, but she couldn't think of a single one that required a hole in the ground.

"So now it's just the blood?" Tom asked and then sighed.

He brought the knife back to her wrist, and slit it. Hermione wanted to let out a scream, sure that her blood would start spurting in every direction, but that didn't happen. She could feel the tingle of magic and just a small stream of blood started to trickle into the ground. What was he doing? Was he going to bleed her out slowly?

However, when he put the knife to his own wrist and slit it too, fear turned to surprise. His blood also started to flow in a controlled trickle into the hole.

The feeling of magic increased when he pressed his wrist against hers, and turned them over, so the blood could drip down into the hole in the ground together, mixed in the same trickle of blood.

Hermione could feel magic starting to flow up the arm that was pressed against Tom, and into the rest of her body. It slowly spread over her chest, down her body, and at the same time up to her head. As it did, she started to hear another voice. It was weak at first, but turned stronger the more the magic spread.

"… blod blir samma för evigt," the voice said and Hermione felt her whole body turn incredibly hot for a moment, and then it cooled down.

She realised she could move again, and quickly rolled away from Tom and leapt to her feet. However, before she could make a run for it, someone grabbed her.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Hermione, but I'm afraid you can't leave before I've explained what's going on." The man who spoke to her was tall, with long black hair, and deep grey eyes. He was dressed in a long black and green robe, with snakes embroidered onto it. It looked outdated, but very expensive.

Hermione tried to kick him to escape, but it didn't seem to faze him.

"I'm Salazar Slytherin, and I need you to help me save the world. Again."


	4. Chapter 4

Good evening my dear readers! Here is a new chapter which I hope will be to your satisfaction after my cliffhanger, mehehehe.

As always, Ozzy, my love, my star, my beta extraordinary! Many cookies for you!

I also want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, subscribed, faved and in other ways shown their appreciation for this fic! Anon review replies can be found here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Hermione stared at the man claiming to be Salazar Slytherin.

"What the hell is going on?" Hermione bellowed and finally managed to pull herself away from the man, stumbling a few steps backwards. Her eyes flew between Tom and the new man.

"There, there, sister. Just calm down and we'll explain everything," Tom said and raised his hands to show that the knife was gone. However, he didn't give her back her wand.

Hermione glared at him, but something was clearly off here. Sister? She knew there were blood rituals to adopt people; the oldest types of blood rituals were about tying family bonds after all, but why would someone want to adopt her?

"What is going on?" she asked again. "Who are you two?"

"I told you, I'm Salazar Slytherin," the long haired man said, looking slightly annoyed.

"That's impossible," Hermione proclaimed. "Slytherin has been dead for a thousand years at least."

"I'm very much dead, yes. But since when has that stopped wizards?" he answered and slowly took a step towards her. "Especially when I still have work to do. Like making sure my heir doesn't get into trouble."

He glared at Tom.

"Your heir?" Hermione asked, looking at Tom. "I thought your heir was— No!"

Tom's smile broadened. "Yes, death doesn't seem to stick in this family, does it? I wonder how long it will take before you die and come back, dear sister."

"This can't be happening," Hermione muttered and slowly started to move backwards. "You can't be Voldemort! I saw your body! I helped them burn it!"

Tom and Slytherin followed her. "Well, it seems like the world wasn't quite finished with me yet. Salazar brought me back."

Hermione stared at Slytherin. Well, at least she was starting to believe he was Slytherin. If Voldemort was alive, then why couldn't Salazar bloody Slytherin be as well? However, she hadn't ruled out the possibility of this being some horrible nightmare.

"Why don't we continue this discussion indoors?" Slytherin suggested. "We wouldn't want someone to interrupt us, now, would we?"

Quicker than Hermione had time to react, he disappeared and reappeared right next to her, taking her hand. He stretched out his other hand and Tom took it. The next moment Hermione felt a sensation similar to Apparation. A breath later, they were standing inside the Chamber of Secrets.

"But you can't Apparate inside of Hogwarts," she whispered in disbelief. Everything was starting to feel more and more surreal, if that was even possible.

"Girl, I built Hogwarts. I can do whatever I please," Slytherin said with a smile and let go of Tom. "Come here."

He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn around and step through a door she hadn't noticed the last time she had been down here. Behind it lay something that looked like a very old-fashioned bedroom.

Hermione was at a loss on what she should do or believe. If Tom really was Voldemort reborn, she had to warn everyone. But what about Slytherin? He had claimed to be dead, but he didn't look like a ghost. What was he? And why had he brought back Voldemort? And what was Tom playing at by calling her his sister? If Slytherin and Voldemort were working together, Hermione couldn't think of any reason why those two would want to make her a sister to any of them. No, something here didn't make sense.

Neither did they seem to want to torture her. They were forceful, but polite in some strange way. That confused her too. She doubted that she was in any immediate danger, but perhaps she should try to run regardless? But how would she overpower both of them without her wand? She hadn't seen where Tom had hid hers.

"I can see that you are confused, Hermione," Slytherin said, his voice friendly. "Sit down and I'll explain everything. You are not in any danger, not from us at least. However, the whole world is in danger. I need your help."

"Why did you strike me down, then?" Hermione asked, deciding that the best thing she could do was to get more information to narrow things down. "If you wanted my help, you could just have asked."

"No, I couldn't," Slytherin said with a sigh. "Only people of my blood can see me. You weren't of my blood before. But you are now. However, time is something we lack, and I couldn't work through my heir. The moment you had found out who needed your help, you would have realised who Tom really is. I apologise for the drastic measures, but if you let me explain, you will understand why."

Hermione looked from Tom, or rather, Tom _Riddle_, to Slytherin. Riddle's face was unreadable, but Slytherin looked sincere.

"Am I a prisoner?" Hermione asked slowly.

Slytherin shook his head. "No. Not really. But I must insist that you listen to me before you leave. You have no idea how important it is."

Hermione studied his face, trying to fathom his intentions. She had tried to practice Legilimency, but she had no idea how good she was. Besides, she didn't know how well Legilimency worked on someone who was dead. She sighed. "Very well. I won't leave until you have talked to me. But I want him to return my wand first."

Slytherin sighed. "Do you swear not to try and curse your way out of here if you get it back? I have to warn you, I'm capable of stopping you. We are inside the Chambers of Secrets, and I know every secret there is to know down here. You won't get out unless I want you to."

Hermione didn't know if he was bluffing, but she didn't plan to test him. She just wanted her wand back. It would make her feel safer and more inclined to actually listen to him.

Slytherin sighed again and stretched out his hand to Riddle. A flash of annoyance was evident on Riddle's face, but then it turned unreadable again as he handed Slytherin Hermione's wand.

Hermione relaxed just a tiny bit when her wand was back in her hand again. "Now, what is it you want to talk to me about?"

"Tom, go and wait in the other room," Slytherin ordered.

Riddle looked surprised. "What for?"

"Because I said so." Slytherin made a gesture with his arm and the door opened.

Riddle scowled, but stalked out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Hermione was equally surprised. Slytherin must have spotted it because he sighed.

"Believe me when I say my heir and I have few things in common. I only resurrected him because the fate of the world hangs in the balance. As my only heir, he is the last person able to control Jörmungandr. Thankfully, you can now do that too."

Hermione tried to search her memory for what on earth Jörmungandr could be. It sounded Scandinavian, but other than that, her mind drew a black. "What is Jörmungandr?"

"In Norse Mythology, he is called the Serpent of the World. He is a creation of my ancestor, Loki, and very much real, lying at the bottom of the ocean. If he awakens, it will be the end of humanity, both wizard and Muggle."

Hermione stared at Slytherin, once again wondering if this was all a dream. "Are you telling me you are related to a _god_?"

Slytherin scoffed. "There is no such thing as a god. The people of Asgard were powerful wizards who lived thousands of years ago. Muggles heard stories about them and with time, a cult was created around these stories. My family are descendants of Loki, and from him comes our power to speak to serpents. This is because we need to control Jörmungandr. Ever since Loki created him, we have kept him asleep at the bottom of the ocean."

Hermione frowned. "Why is that?"

"If he awakens, he will stir up the oceans and create tidal waves and earthquakes the likes of which you have never seen. Once he is awake, he will be hungry, and he will move up to land, eating everything in his way. Jörmungandr is enormous. He will destroy the world just to feed himself. He is Rangarök, the end of the world."

"If he is so dangerous, why not just kill him?" Hermione asked, suspicious. If there was a huge serpent lying at the bottom of the ocean, wouldn't someone have discovered it by now?

"Loki was a great sorcerer," Slytherin said with a sigh. "He made Jörmungandr invincible. Over the years, some in my family have tried to find a way to destroy him, without destroying the world. But no one has figured it out. Therefore, we use magic to keep him asleep. It has worked for thousands of years, but now, because of the foolishness of my heir and his mother, Jörmungandr could awaken.

"He is sensitive to magic, especially the magic that comes from the blood of his creator. He has begun to stir, creating small tidal waves. You will read about more in the coming years. It will take some time for him to properly awaken, a couple of years perhaps. But we can't let that happen. Someone needs to go down to him and refreshen the spells over him.

"As I'm sure you understand, I can't trust Tom with this. But since he was my last heir, he had to come back so I could create another heir from him. You are that one. You'll carry my legacy now, Miss Granger," Slytherin said softly.

Hermione studied him critically. "I guess that's where I have a hard time believing you. Everyone knows that you distrust Muggle-borns. Your house is famous for that. Why on earth would you chose me if all this was true?"

"Due to that ritual, you are no longer a Muggle-born. You are of my blood," Slytherin said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "The important thing is that you are a powerful and disciplined witch."

Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't believe you. It's not really the blood that's the big issue for Muggleborn-haters, it's the legacy. I come from the Muggle world, and that isn't going to change just because of some ritual."

Slytherin straightened and glared down at her. "Indeed. Do you want me to tell you how sickening it is to share my blood with that of Muggles? Well, that was the case with Tom as well. But he severed all his ties to the Muggle world, and so have you. I believe you erased your parents' memories of you?"

"I didn't do that for the same reasons as Voldemort did," Hermione argued, angry. "I did that to protect them!"

"Well, consider this a continuation of that protection. You are a Slytherin now, girl."

"Why the bloody hell did you chose me when you clearly dislike it so much?" Hermione asked, both angry and confused.

Slytherin gave her a dark look. "You don't understand the severity of this situation. Beggars can't be choosers. If Jörmungandr awakens, it will be the end of all wizards. I would rather sully my own bloodline than let that happen. I've always cared more about the Wizarding world than any of the other Founders. Muggles could have destroyed us when we created Hogwarts, if it wasn't for my protection. That's why I dislike seeing Mudbloods at Hogwarts. There are always those of your kin that hate the idea of wizards. I didn't want to take that risk, but the others overruled me."

"Well, creating a monster that kills Mudbloods hardly softens Muggles' view of wizards," Hermione pointed out.

Slytherin huffed. "The winner writes history, Hermione. I left the 'monster', as you call it, to train my descendants to control Jörmungandr. Then Tom came and saw the same uses of it that Gryffindor once had. Don't you find it strange that so many of my heirs have been to Hogwarts, but there have been no deaths since Tom's time?"

"Am I really supposed to believe that?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

Slytherin sighed, and then went over to the opposite wall. He waved his hand over it, and the stones in the wall started to disappear, revealing a hidden chamber. Slytherin disappeared into it for a moment, and when he returned he was holding a big silver basin in his hand. It's edge was covered with runes, and Hermione immediately recognised it as a Scrying basin. She scoffed.

"If you expect to convince me with Divination—"

Slytherin huffed. "This isn't Divination, girl. Divination is bogus and full of guesswork. We are not Scrying for the future, we are Scrying to see something that is here now, but at another place. I'll show you Jörmungandr and where he resides."

He held up his hand again and the basin was filled with clear water.

"I didn't know Scrying could be used to see things at other places," Hermione said with a frown.

"It is a lost art," Slytherin answered. "Mostly because it became forbidden some five hundred years ago. Wizards didn't like that people could spy on them without their knowledge. All you need is something that connects you with the person or object you wish you see. Our blood connects us with Jörmungandr, and the incantation to make sure we just see him, and not someone else of our blood is simple. Observe."

A knife appeared in his hand and he pricked his finger, letting one drop of blood fall into the basin. "_Show me Jörmungandr_."

The water in the basin started to swirl, and change colours. Watching it almost made Hermione dizzy. Thankfully, it was over after just a few seconds, and when the water became still, she saw that it showed something underwater. It was dark, but somehow, she could still see everything clearly. Rocks were lying at the bottom of the ocean floor, stretching along for as far as could be seen. Between the rocks was an enormous head. She wasn't sure how she knew it was enormous, because it was hard to get perspective, but yet, she knew. The head looked like that of a dragon more than of a serpent. Even though she could see where the eyes were because of the formation of scales around them, Jörmungandr had his eyelids closed, unlike normal snakes that didn't have eyelids at all.

"What is that by its mouth?" Hermione asked, suddenly noticing the weird protrusion that lay in front of the head, but came from something that was out of view.

"It's his tail," Slytherin said softly. "Jörmungandr is lying in the ocean around the Antarctic, and he is long enough that he can reach his own tail, just as the myth claims. You can imagine how much destruction he can cause by just moving. And just like a Basilisk, his eyes can kill, if he wants to. That is why I left a Basilisk here. My descendants needed to learn to control such a big creature, if worst came to worst. They are not like normal serpents, which follow our every whim. You need to gain their respect."

Hermione wasn't sure she actually could imagine the amount of destruction, but her brain told her it was loads. Loads and loads. The thought made her queasy. Had they saved the world just to have it swallowed by this huge beast?

"How do I know this is real and not some illusion?" Hermione finally asked.

"Can you take the chance that it isn't real?" Slytherin asked, his tone serious. "I will give you some text to read up on him, which also contain the enchantments to keep him asleep. Do any tests you want on them to convince yourself that they are real. I know you can read runes."

Hermione nodded. In Ancient Runes, she had learned simple spells that could tell how old an object was, and if it had been tampered with or not. It helped researchers determine if the runes they were using were legit or not.

"But what about Riddle?" Hermione asked.

Slytherin sighed. "I can keep him under control for now. If anything were to happen to you, I will need him to make another Blood Sibling. And you have enemies, Hermione."

"Can't I make another Blood Sibling?" Hermione asked.

Slytherin shook his head. "No, the magic of Blood Siblings doesn't work that way. You and Tom are not siblings in the traditional sense. He is flesh, magic and blood, you are just magic and blood. If you were to create a Blood Sibling, the magic would not pass through that bond, and it is the magic we need to stop Jörmungandr. However, your children, when you have them, will be both flesh and blood, and therefore, magic as well. Thus, your children will be able to make Blood Siblings that will be my heirs. And that is why I can't risk losing Tom until either of you have had children."

Hermione found that a bit peculiar, and decided to read up on the subject of Blood Siblings. She didn't like that Riddle was still here, able to do more harm. "So you'll let Tom go free until one of us has a child?"

"Not free. As long as he remains at Hogwarts, I can control him," Slytherin said. "I created him with my magic, and I can make him as powerless as a Muggle if I have to, and still be able to sire magical children."

Hermione, who knew that even a Muggle was capable of causing great damage, wasn't impressed. "And what about outside of Hogwarts?"

Slytherin made a grimace. "I'm dead, Hermione. I have power here because I put my soul and magic into building Hogwarts. But outside of Hogwarts, I'm not even a ghost, I can't leave Hogwarts' grounds."

Hermione shivered at the thought. She felt sorry for ghosts, but at least they could move through the world and interact with living creatures. Slytherin could only interact with his relatives, and not see anything other than Hogwarts, for all eternity. To Hermione, that was a certain kind of hell.

"What do you plan to let Riddle do in the meantime, then?" Hermione finally asked.

"Attend his last year at Hogwarts. By then, I hope that you will have been able to travel to Jörmungandr and put him to sleep again, thus taking care of the immediate problem."

"But I had planned to finish Hogwarts as well," Hermione replied, frowning again.

"By all means, do so. In fact, that is to our advantage. I can teach you a lot of things, Hermione. More than just how to control Jörmungandr. You are a more worthy heir than Tom, both of you have a Muggle inheritance, but at least you didn't go mad from it."

She didn't know if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. But one thing was certain; she was going to keep her guard up around both of them. If this was some kind of trick, she did not want them to succeed.

"May I leave now?" Hermione asked.

Slytherin regarded her for a moment, then he nodded. "Yes. However, I must ask you to keep this a secret. If Tom is discovered, he will be taken out of Hogwarts, and I won't be able to control him. He would be much more dangerous."

Hermione was about to object, but then she remembered that if Sirius Black could break free from Azkaban, then Lord Voldemort would surely be able to do it. Especially now, when there were no longer any Dementors at Azkaban. She had no idea how much Dark Arts he knew, but she didn't doubt that he would use everything in his arsenal to flee the Ministry. At least he seemed to have some form of respect, or fear, for Slytherin, considering that he actually followed his orders.

"How much does he remember from his past life?" Hermione asked when the question suddenly hit her.

"I'm not certain. When I brought him back to life, he thought he was still at Hogwarts, just about to turn seventeen. I repaired his soul when I restored him, and he was almost seventeen the first time he split it, so that's why all the memories up until that moment are intact. However, I can't be sure if memories from the other parts of his soul will come back over time. Not that it matters much. I've already found him in the library several times, reading about himself. He knows much about what happens, even if he doesn't remember it."

Hermione wasn't sure what to think about that. On one hand, it was probably easier to deal with a Dark Lord who didn't carry the memory of all the knowledge he had no doubt collected in the years after Hogwarts. Despite that, he was still a very dangerous and clever wizard to deal with, and she couldn't for a moment let down her guard.

"Very well. Give me the scrolls you have about Jörmungandr and we can talk later tonight," Hermione said. She realised that she was actually starting to believe Slytherin. He probably did want to save the world. Nevertheless, she would double check and triple check that he was telling the truth.

Slytherin disappeared into the hidden chamber again and returned with a sealed scroll container. He gave it to her.

"Be careful with it, the parchment hasn't been read in a very long time. You'll need to refresh the protective spells around it before you read it."

Hermione nodded and took the container. "How do I get out of here?"

Slytherin opened the outer door again and she saw Riddle standing right behind it. He had a grim expression on his face.

"I'll take you upstairs again," Slytherin said. "You'll continue to act as if nothing has changed."

Riddle scowled and didn't say anything as Slytherin put a hand on him, and the other on Hermione. The next moment, they were transported upstairs.

xxx

Slytherin left them without warning upon reaching the second floor. Granger looked surprised by this, and Tom snorted.

"Yes, our honoured ancestor does that sometimes. He is quite mysterious," Tom drawled.

Granger glared at him and stopped walking. "I just want to make one thing clear, Riddle—"

"Dolder. Or Tom. I think we should be on first name basis, dear sister," Tom interrupted cheerfully.

"Fine. _Tom_. I know Slytherin needs you right now, but don't for one moment think that I'll stand by and let you do whatever you wish," Hermione hissed. "If you try to hurt me or any of my friends, I'll—"

Tom sighed loudly, interrupting her again. "First off, Granger, I wouldn't _try_ to hurt any of your friends, I would succeed. And if I wished to, you wouldn't be able to stop me, and no petty threat you could think off would discourage me from doing whatever I wanted to."

Granger stared at him in disbelief. "But Slytherin said—"

"Yes, exactly. Slytherin is the threat here, not you. So if I were to find a way out of his control, what makes you think you could do anything to stop me? And just so we are perfectly clear: I'm not here to follow your orders. You can do nothing. If you kill me, Slytherin will resurrect me again and possibly kill you. If you try to expose me, Slytherin will have to silence you. If you hurt me…" He trailed off, looking smug. "Oh, Granger, you are welcome to try. But I will give back with everything I've got. Better, even. And Slytherin will understand that I acted in self-defence. The only thing I'm not allowed to do is kill you."

Tom leaned closer to her, and stroked her hair away back from her face and whispered: "But that's only for as long as Slytherin can control me. And he knows he won't be able to keep me for long. So if I were you, sister, I'd stay on my good side."

Granger pushed him away, and he chuckled, allowing himself to be pushed away.


	5. Chapter 5

Ozzy! My love, my star, my beta! Lots of cookies for you for all your hard work making this readable.

And to everyone who has read, reviewed, subscribed and faved - thank you so, so much! It means the world to me! As always, anon review reply can be found here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

_He was sitting inside a dark room, stroking the head of a snake. Nagini, his mind recalled. The snake was almost asleep, her big head in his lap. She had just eaten, and she always became tired afterwards. A nice juicy Muggle boy had been her treat today._

"_My Lord? You called for us?" A tall, pale man with black greasy hair came in through the door. Behind him was a blond boy, who was trembling in fear. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. Yes, he remembered their names clearly._

"_Sit down," he said, gesturing towards_ _the armchairs across the table from him. He also waved his wand towards the fireplace, creating some light in the dark room. He didn't need light to see, but he knew the other two did._

_Snape casually took his seat, looking as unimpressed as ever, while Malfoy turned even paler after one look at_ _Nagini. Voldemort ignored it._

"_You are the two situated closest to Potter. I want to hear everything you know about him. No matter how insignificant the detail."_

_Snape was the one who started_ _talking, and who had the most to say. Malfoy added something now and again, his voice low and weak. Pathetic boy._

"_What about his friends, then?" Voldemort finally asked. "Ronald Weasley, can we hurt Potter through him?"_

"_I'm sure we can, my Lord. If anyone was hurt because of Potter, it would break Potter's spirit. But other than that, he would not be useful to us. A mediocre wizard, and well, you know about the Weasley family. Nothing to gain from them otherwise," Snape said._

"_And his other close friend, the Mudblood?" Voldemort asked._

_Malfoy let out an angry snort. Voldemort turned his eyes towards him, and Malfoy quickly averted his gaze. Snape frowned at his student._

"_Granger is by far the cleverest of the three," Snape said. "But that is only because she reads, does_ _her homework and can repeat what it says. No originality or improvisation. She is an obnoxious know-it-all."_

"_But she is very violent," Malfoy added darkly._

_Voldemort looked at him, mildly surprised. "How is that?"_

"_She has a mean right-hook," Malfoy said. "And I think she did something to Rita Skeeter; blackmailed her or hexed her or something. She asked if Granger had any weaknesses a few months ago. And she hasn't written anything about Granger or Potter since last term."_

"_Is that so?" Voldemort asked and looked at Snape for confirmation._

_Snape was looking thoughtful. "I have not noticed any violent tendencies in the classroom. Quite the opposite, she is always eager to be praised_ _and sucks up to the_ _authorities."_

"_Interesting," Voldemort remarked._

Tom woke up slowly, the memory lingering as he yawned and stretched. Meeting Hermione Granger had definitely proven that she was indeed of a violent nature. But she could control herself, and she seemed to have overcome her reluctance to improvise, instead of just following textbook instructions. Well, war did change people.

A knock on the door was heard. Guessing who it was, Tom didn't bother to put on his shirt, and went to open the door in just his sleeping pants.

"Bloody hell, Tom, put on a shirt!" Granger greeted him. Slytherin stood behind her, looking disapprovingly at Tom.

Tom just smiled. "Please, come in."

Nothing brightened up his morning more than watching Granger squirm. She may not be a blushing virgin, but it was clear she found his intimate behaviour towards her unnerving, and that was just what Tom wanted. As long as she was occupied with feeling uncomfortable, she wouldn't notice what else he was up to. If only the same strategy worked on Slytherin as well.

He had hoped to use Granger's Muggle background and Slytherin's hatred towards Muggles to pit them against each other. If they started fighting each other, then his work would be so much simpler. However, he had completely misjudged Slytherin. Or rather, how desperate his ancestor really was. As long as Granger studied whatever lesson Slytherin was teaching her, he seemed fine with whatever else Granger thought or said. Tom would have given a lot to hear what Slytherin was teaching his adopted sister. Alas, Slytherin would throw him out and erect blood wards against him whenever Granger's lessons were being held.

Although, that did give Tom an excellent opportunity to do whatever he wanted. He had managed to read up on most of what had happened in the last fifty years, and the stream of memories that came to him each night filled in some of the blanks of his own personal history.

He still hadn't completely decided on what he would do once he had got rid of Slytherin's interference. But he was young. Again. He had tested his own body, and he was indeed, in every way, seventeen years old. That meant he had plenty of time before he had to worry about dying of old age. Add to that the memories of his old self, and he was sure he would figure out a new way to immortality in due time.

In fact, he had found some rather interesting information when he had read up on his other ancestor, Loki. The Æsir had all been immortal after all (until they had killed each other), and knowing that they had in fact been real further piqued Tom's interest. But it was still very vague, and Tom knew he needed to find better sources before he could actually make any plans. That meant leaving Hogwarts.

"Tom," Slytherin called for his attention, and Tom went over to them, now with a t-shirt on.

He sat down next to Granger on the small sofa, which yet again, made her give him an uncomfortable look. She didn't like him one bit.

"Hermione and I just received information that Hogwarts will open in the fall," Slytherin said. "Professor McGonagall has sent out letters to all the old students, and has started to search for teachers."

"That's good then," Tom remarked. "So when will you give McGonagall your recommendation, to let me finish my final year here?"

He looked sweetly at Granger, who wrinkled her nose in a grimace.

"Hermione has promised to do so once we hear of how many students are expected to be back," Slytherin said. "With any luck, McGonagall will agree if there are many seventh years missing. We will place you in Gryffindor."

"Why Gryffindor?" Tom asked, slightly annoyed. He didn't plan to stick around long enough to actually get sorted, but the thought of staying in Gryffindor was nauseating.

"It will be good for your disguise," Slytherin said. "You are too much of a Slytherin, and we can't have you raising suspicions. You will have to start acting more reckless."

"Not every Gryffindor is reckless," Granger objected, also looking annoyed at the prospect of sharing a house with him.

"No, but it would be better if Tom stopped acting like himself completely. We don't need any suspicions," Slytherin said.

Tom didn't say anything. Did Salazar really think he was acting like himself right now? Well, that would explain why Salazar had said that "Voldemort" had been crazy. When the perfect opportunity arose, he could show his ancestor just how little he had truly seen of Tom Riddle.

"Have you ever played Quidditch, Tom?" Salazar asked.

"Yes, and I'm not good enough to ever make it to a team," Tom lied. If he put his mind to it, he could be a perfect Quidditch player, but he didn't want to waste time on something so useless. "If I have to act like a Gryffindor, I think I'd be better off playing the carefree type. Partying, drinking, flirting."

Granger looked appalled. "So you are going to take advantage of other girls?"

"Well, I could torture and murder them instead, if that would make you feel better."

He ducked to the side, just before her fist made contact with his face. Violent indeed.

"Hermione," Salazar said in a disapproving tone. "Don't let him provoke you."

Granger glared at him. "If you hurt any of them, physically or emotionally, I'll—"

"Do nothing more than you would to any other teenage boy who acts like a teenage boy," Salazar interrupted.

Granger looked absolutely murderous. "Being a teenage boy is no excuse for being an arse and treating women like playthings! And I wouldn't stand by and just accept it, no matter who the teenage boy is."

Tom was once again reminded of the night they had seen her storm away from the Gryffindor tower. He had overheard the Weasley boy complain enough to take a guess at what had happened. Clearly, Granger was still hurt by it. How useful.

"You are always welcome to scold, sister," Tom said sweetly. "In fact, it would be better if I did play and discard one of your friends. Then, at least, you would have a reason to be so cross with me."

Salazar nodded in agreement. "Yes, you are not as good an actor as Tom is, Hermione."

"Excuse me for not making a living out of deceiving people," Hermione growled and rose from the sofa. "I'll go down to breakfast now, so I won't have to risk people forcing me to _lie_ about my whereabouts."

She stormed out of the room.

"You shouldn't provoke her, Tom," Salazar said.

"My mere existence provokes her, it doesn't matter what I say," Tom remarked. "But I have no doubt you'll teach her how to hide that."

"Jealous, are we?"

Tom snorted. "Of the Mudblood? No. We may call her your other heir, but that's just a formality. You'll use her to get your precious serpent under control, after that she is just a breeding mare. I'm sure you'll trick her into getting into a relationship as soon as you find some worthy pureblood. Perhaps arrange a few mishaps with whatever contraceptive potion she uses, and voila, the next heir is on its way, ready to be taught everything you have told Granger."

He rose from the sofa, heading towards his private bathroom.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, Tom," Salazar said, making Tom pause. "You can be used as a breeding mare too."

Tom laughed. "Yes, because sentimental as I am, I would of course do everything in my power to protect my offspring."

Salazar didn't respond to that and Tom continued to the bathroom, undressing before jumping into the shower. He knew Salazar would never dare to leave any children in Tom's care. No, as soon as Granger got pregnant, Salazar would get rid of him.

Well, he would try to, at least.

xxx

Hermione left Riddle's room in a dark mood. It had only been a week since she had found out who he really was, and she already had trouble keeping it to herself. She wanted to stand on top of the castle and scream it out. Hell, she wanted to push him down from the top of the castle and then scream it out!

But she couldn't. Because the fate of the earth hung in the balance.

She had really tried to find out if Slytherin was lying, but all evidence suggested that he was telling the truth. Not that it was as much evidence as she would have liked. The only material she had was provided by Slytherin. Even though all her spells on it had checked out, she was aware that Slytherin knew magic no one else did. It was possible that he had forged the books and parchments.

However, she couldn't understand why. Why would Slytherin do this, if he weren't telling the truth? He never mentioned or complained about her Muggle background. She had tried to bait him a few times, but he had just frowned at her, and not responded. Instead, he was teaching her powerful spells that would help her control the Serpent of Midgard. Why would he do that if he and Voldemort were just going to use her? She had tried the spells on her own, and they did work.

"Hermione?" Ginny was standing at the end of the hallway and waved when she saw Hermione come closer.

"Good morning," Hermione said. "On your way down to breakfast?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, and glanced at the direction Hermione had come from. "Where have you been?"

Hermione mentally grimaced. "Just had to tell Tom a few things. He'll be down later."

Ginny frowned and they started to walk towards the kitchen. "You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with him. Something going on?"

Hermione really wished she could tell her. Ever since she had found out who Tom really was, she hadn't really known how to talk to her friends. They would see that something was wrong if she said too much. Instead, she had pulled away a little. Not that it was too hard, since she and Ron still weren't talking to each other. "No, just working with Hogwarts stuff."

"Oh. He is a bit … peculiar, isn't he?" Ginny said carefully.

Hermione became worried. Did Ginny know something? She had spent a lot of time with Tom Riddle's diary after all. Was she recognising him?

"Maybe. In what way?"

Ginny shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I don't know. There's just something about him … maybe I'm just a bit on edge around people who are that handsome and are named Tom."

Hermione tried to laugh it off, but she had to admit her laugh sounded a bit forced. "He is a bit distant, I've noticed. Even though he is friendly, he always keeps a polite distance. Maybe he is a bit shy?"

"Maybe," Ginny said, grimacing. "I just really don't want any new problem now, after everything."

"Yeah," Hermione said, feeling a stab of guilt in her heart. None of them knew about the dangers the world was facing. Even if she could though, would she have told them? Somehow, it didn't seem fair. After all these years of horror, they could finally start to heal. She didn't want to take that away from them. If she managed to get the work done, there would be no reason for them to panic. It was not as if it were that dangerous. Slytherin had shown her several ways to make it to the bottom of the ocean without any harm. His family had done it for thousands of years, after all. As long as the serpent didn't wake up, she was not in any danger. And neither were her friends.

Well, as long as Riddle didn't cause any more problems. And she could bet everything she owned that he would. She would have to keep a really close eye on him. Thank Merlin that Slytherin was still there to control him. She didn't dare to think what Riddle would do if something happened to Slytherin.

They reached the kitchen and found Harry there, eating with Neville and, to Hermione's great delight, Luna. Ginny seemed equally pleased, because she rushed forward to hug their friend.

"Luna, how good to see you again! How have you been?" Hermione asked and hugged Luna as well, once Ginny had let go.

"Daddy has put up Dream Capturers around my bed to catch all the nightmares. I'm waiting for them to work any day now," Luna said in her usual calm and relaxed way. Hermione noted that she did look tired, though. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her long dirty blond hair was looking even duller than usual. Regardless of that, she was dressed in a bright yellow robe and wearing a necklace of feathers in different colours. For Luna, it was a surprisingly tasteful necklace.

"You don't feel like trying some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" Hermione asked. "We brewed a new batch just two days ago. I could get you some."

"No, Dreamless Sleep Potions can disturb the Hidrians," Luna replied. "Dad is trying to capture some, and I wouldn't want to scare them away."

"Well, if you want to try it when you come back to Hogwarts, just let me know," Hermione said, not even bothering to ask what on earth a Hidrian was, or why Mr Lovegood would want to capture one.

Luna just nodded and turned back to the table. Ginny sat down next to her, and Hermione took a place at the opposite side of the table, next to Harry.

"Where is Ron?" Ginny asked and started to serve herself some porridge and pumpkin juice.

"McGonagall wanted to talk to all of us about what we wanted to do now that the school is to remain open," Harry said. "Something about getting honour grades from the Ministry, so we won't have to take our N.E.W.T's."

Hermione looked at him in shock. "We can't take our N.E.W.T's?" But she still had so much to learn! She had missed so much already!

Harry smiled at her. "I'm sure we can, if we want to. But some of us don't feel like going back to school."

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning. She had sort of hoped that everything would get back to normal between her, Harry and Ron once school began and they resumed their pre-war everyday routine. But maybe this was for the best. If Harry and Ron weren't here, she didn't need to worry about Riddle harming them because of what they had done to his old self. It didn't matter what Salazar said, Hermione knew Riddle could be patient and sneaky.

"Yeah, I don't think I'd want to stay either," Neville said. "I mean, the only class I'm really good at is Herbology, and I think I'd rather focus only on that. Gran sent some owls on my behalf, you know, inquiries, and every Herbology Master she owled said they would be thrilled to have me." His expression was a mixture of pride and the uncomfortable puzzlement of someone who still didn't realise their true potential.

"Of course they would," Hermione said, encouragingly. "You are really talented at Herbology."

"Not to mention, you are a war hero too," Ginny said, with a wink.

Neville laughed, looking even more uncomfortable. "Yeah, but I don't want to take advantage of that, you know…"

"I think it's safe to say that you have earned every benefit you can get from here on," Hermione remarked.

"Yes, we all have," Ginny agreed.

A moment of silence fell over the table. Hermione knew they were all trying not to think about what exactly they had done to earn the peace they now had. No doubt they were all failing as miserably as she was.

"Good morning."

Hermione held back a groan when Riddle suddenly appeared.

"Mind if I squeeze in?"

Hermione minded very much, but Neville immediately made room for him and Riddle sat down next to Neville and Luna.

"Oh, hello, I don't think I've met you yet," Riddle said politely to Luna, stretching out a hand for her. "I'm Tom Dolder."

Luna grasped his hand and stared at him with the same mild, unimpressed eyes she always had. "Hello. I'm Luna Lovegood. You don't go to Hogwarts."

Riddle looked a little surprised by her statement. "No, I'm from Sweden. I just came here to help after the war."

"That's nice. I like Sweden. My father and I were there a few summers ago, trying to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Hermione expected Riddle to look confused and readied herself for scolding him if he started to laugh at Luna. Therefore, she was very surprised when Riddle looked thoughtful.

"I tried to find one too, when I was younger," he said.

The whole table stared at him, and only Luna didn't stare in disbelief.

Riddle smiled at them. "Oh, I know many wizards believe that they are a myth. If they have even heard of them, that is. But I like to keep an open mind. I'd hate to miss something fantastic just because it's improbable."

Luna nodded in agreement. Hermione glanced around the table. Neville and Harry seemed mostly confused, but Ginny's eyes were narrowed, as if she were trying to figure out if Riddle was ridiculing her friend or not. Hermione wondered the same thing.

"But the writings concerning the Crumple-Horned Snorkack are quite vague. In myths, elves rode on them. The smallest kind, that is, Leaf-elves. But those aren't around now either, so it's hard to ask them. They died out after the Great War of Magical Beings in Scandinavia. Maybe the Crumple-Horned Snorkack died out with them?"

"My father met someone who had seen them," Luna stated, but she didn't seem to be annoyed with Riddle at all. Then again, Luna rarely became annoyed.

"Then you'll have to tell me if you find them," Riddle said with a smile. "Stranger things have happened. I know for a fact that Heliopaths are real, even though most wizards believe they are a myth as well."

"Yes, Minister Fudge had an army of them," Luna said.

Riddle frowned. "I don't know if I've heard about that. But they were the guardians of the rulers of Great Zimbabwe."

"Oh? How do you know that?" Luna asked, once again looking mildly interested in Riddle.

"My father studied that civilisation before he passed away," Riddle answered. "I'd like to visit the ruins when I'm older."

"Maybe my father would be interested in doing a reportage about it," Luna mused. "I think I'll Owl him about it."

"I can give you the names of some books on the topic, if you'd like," Riddle offered.

Hermione watched them as Riddle got some parchment and started to scribble down some titles while talking to Luna. What was he playing at? Hadn't Salazar just told him to stop acting like himself?

Okay, so helpful was certainly not something Tom Riddle was, but he was clever. Should he really show off like that? Or was he already trying to make a name for himself as a partying womaniser?

Hermione felt her belly tighten in fear. She did not want Luna to fall for Riddle. Luna would be left heartbroken!


	6. Chapter 6

Hi! Sorry for the delay in updates. Just came back home from a week long stay at the hospital. Erupted cyst - don't try that if you can help it. The pain is excruciating. But now I'm back home, feeling somewhat better, so yay! Nevertheless, thought it was best to post this at once, before something else happens. You can never trust this body of mine.

As always, thank you, Ozzy for your wonderful services as my beta *blow kisses*

Anyway, I really like this chapter, so I hope you like it too!

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

It had been a nice little side mission. Useful, too. Salazar had thought he was too busy seducing that he hadn't noticed what Tom was really researching, the last few nights at the library. Apparently, his ancestor had never heard about multitasking. Finally, he knew how to get out from underneath Salazar's thumb.

"I thought there would be sparkles."

Tom smiled and looked up at the naked young woman whose lap he was lying in. "Sparkles?"

Luna nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes. Like when unicorns mate, there are showers of sparkles around them. I thought it would be like that."

"When did you see unicorns mate?"

Luna shrugged. "I walk in the Forbidden Forest sometimes. Not where it's dangerous, of course. Hagrid told me where you shouldn't walk."

Tom chuckled. She was a most amusing girl, Luna. Not only had she been useful for tricking Salazar, but he could not wait until Granger heard about this. She would be exquisitely livid.

"Maybe I wasn't trying hard enough," he mused. "I know some other tricks; maybe one of those will make you see sparkles."

Luna looked down at him. "Oh?"

Tom's smiled and sat up, pulling her down into a lying position again. He kissed her, and she answered, more courageous this time around. Or rather, more experienced. She was a fast learner. Another thing that pleased him. And Lord Voldemort always rewarded those who pleased him.

xxx

Hermione took a deep breath before she started on the incantation again, for the seventh time that evening. Slytherin was circling her like a hawk, ready to correct her if she as much as moved the wrong muscle. She knew the incantation was important and perfecting it made sense, but this was a bit ridiculous. What difference would it possibly make if she were resting her weight on her right leg instead of her left?

To her great surprise, this time, she actually managed to finish the whole spell without him interrupting her. Once she had lowered her wand hand, she looked at him.

"Was that good?"

He nodded once. "I want to see you do that just as perfectly two more times before we call it a night. But I will take a look at Tom first to make sure he is still busy."

Before she had time to say anything, he disappeared.

Hermione growled. She didn't know what she found the most aggravating, that Slytherin wanted her to practice more, or that Slytherin wouldn't say what Riddle was "busy" with. In every other session, Slytherin would pop out every ten minutes or so and check on Riddle. Today, however, Slytherin had been with her for over an hour. In a way, it was good, because they had made a lot of progress. At the same time, what on earth was Riddle up to?

For the past few nights, after they would finish their work rebuilding Hogwarts, Riddle would go to the library with Luna. She had sat with them one evening, and had been relieved to see that Luna didn't seem to be physically attracted to the handsome exchange student. They had just been doing research on an article for Luna's father. Riddle hadn't seemed that flirtatious either, and Hermione had thought that it was safe enough to leave for her lessons with Slytherin.

Not even a minute had passed when Slytherin returned again.

"I think he will be busy for the rest of the night," Slytherin said, looking pleased.

Hermione frowned, suspicious. "What is he doing, exactly?"

"Nothing of importance," Slytherin said dismissively. "You should focus on the incantation. Do it again."

Hermione sighed, pushing her worry back. This was more important after all. The sooner she got the Serpent of Midgard under control, the sooner Slytherin could get rid of Riddle.

It was well past midnight when Slytherin was finally satisfied with her wand work.

"We will be able to turn to the next lesson tomorrow."

"Which is?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Controlling serpents. Unlike Tom, you have no experience with this. We will have to start from scratch, control simpler serpents first, then move our way up, to more difficult species. It's a shame the Basilisk is dead; we will have to find another one."

Hermione felt a cold shiver go through her. "Why?"

"Knowing the incantation is the mere minimum knowledge. For you to actually be able to pass on my legacy, you'll need to know how to control it. If future generations ever need to force Jörmungandr back down to the bottom of the ocean, they need to be experts at Parseltongue. Not only that, but there are many more things about your new heritage that you need to know," Slytherin explained. "I'll give you more material to read, but much of it is too unsafe to put down in books. In the wrong hands, the things we know could become dangerous."

Hermione nodded. He didn't have to tell her who he was thinking about. "Well, goodnight, then."

"Good night, Hermione." He disappeared in the same soundless way he always did.

She made her way back to Gryffindor tower, and to her great surprise, she found Ginny, still awake.

"Have you seen Luna tonight?" Ginny asked when she saw her.

Hermione frowned. "No, I've been alone, working on a project all night. Why?"

"Well, I wanted to ask her about a thing so I went to the library, but she wasn't there. Neither was Dolder." Ginny was looking a bit worried, and Hermione could feel her own worry increasing.

He couldn't have… Could he?

Of course he could. Slytherin had said he was "busy", and he didn't mean with reading. Slytherin would have wanted to keep a really close eye on Riddle if he was reading anything. Same if he were practicing magic. Or were out for a walk.

Come to think of it, Hermione couldn't think of any other reason for Slytherin to leave Riddle alone, other than if he was having sex.

With Luna.

She was going to have to kill him.

xxx

Tom was breathing heavily as he collapsed next to Luna after his third round of intercourse. He was indeed seventeen years old again. Even he was surprised at his stamina.

"Did you see any sparkles now?" Tom asked after taking a moment to recapture his breath.

Luna's eyes were closed, but she was smiling. "Yes. On the insides of my eyelids."

"Excellent." Tom stretched and turned onto his back. His eyes fell on the clock hanging on the wall, on the side opposite to the bed. It was already past midnight. Should he offer her a shower before throwing her out?

Looking at her again, he wondered if she was about to fall asleep right now. He poked her.

"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked.

She opened her eyes. They had already regained their usual calm, disinterested expression. He had made her glow before.

"No, magic will do." She sat up slowly.

Since the bed was situated next to the wall, and he was currently lying between her and the rest of the room, he sat up as well. She slid past him and picked up her wand, which had fallen down on the floor. After casting a cleaning spell over herself, she placed the wand behind her right ear and started to collect her clothes.

Tom leaned back in bed and watched her pale, naked behind disappear behind plain blue knickers.

"Will we be doing this often now?" she asked, her tone making it sound as if she had just politely asked about his health.

"As much as I'd like to, I doubt I'll be around long enough for that," Tom replied, equally politely. "But you never know when our roads will cross again."

"You won't be my boyfriend, then," she concluded, pulling on her pants.

"No, this is strictly for fun." That was one of the things he liked about Luna. She caught on easily. He didn't doubt that she could fancy herself in love with him if he let her, but she didn't seem bothered with just having fun either.

"I think I can understand the unicorns better now," Luna said, finally finishing dressing. "I wonder if I'll be able to talk to them about this."

He smiled. "If anyone will be able to do it, you will."

She nodded. "I'll see you later."

Tom nodded and she left without another word. He sank back against the pillows and let out a pleased sigh. How he enjoyed people like Luna. He didn't even have to spend too much time manipulating her, she could sense what he wanted and was pleased to do it. True, he didn't ask any more from her than she would have been willing to do for anyone, but it was still nice to spend time with someone who wanted to please him. Merlin knows Salazar and Hermione didn't know how to please him.

His eyes were closed, but he could still feel when Salazar entered the room to check on him. Tom had a very acute sense for magic around him. It had taken him a couple of days to tune into Salazar special, very faint magic, which was hard to detect but it was there. Therefore, Tom could also feel when the magic disappeared.

Once his ancestor was gone, Tom rolled out of bed again and pulled out the blend he had prepared earlier. It was time to add the final ingredient. Just as he had suspected, his ancestor hadn't bothered to check Tom's room while he was busy with Luna. People were often so predictable.

With a simple spell, he was dressed again, ready to get out from under his ancestor's thumb once and for all.

He used a knife to draw blood from his hand and let it drop into the blend. "_Aname Vindictie Vracsupe Infente_," he whispered. The blend began to shimmer with a blue light, showing him that he had done it correctly.

Quickly, he took the thick paste-like blend into his hand and began painting the symbol on the wall. It was most commonly used to banish ghosts, but Tom had modified the blend to work for someone like Salazar as well. That is, a ghost with magic. You could use it on wizards too, after all, but it required more power. It was all tied to blood and magic, and Tom was quite positive his own blood would work. The Banishing Ritual wouldn't work forever on Salazar, but he didn't need it to work for long. Just long enough to get well away from Hogwarts.

Just as he was about to add the final spell to the symbol, his front door slammed open. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Granger march in, looking angry.

"What in bloody—" She stopped and gasped when she saw the symbol. "No! Slytherin!"

It seemed like she had recognised the symbol. But it was too late. Tom uttered the final spell at the same moment that Salazar entered the room. The symbol started to glow bright red.

"No!" Salazar's moan became weaker as he started to fade away from the room. After just a few seconds, he was completely gone.

Tom smiled and turned to Granger who had gone paler than death.

"Riddle," she whispered. "What did you do?"

"I think you know," Tom said and used another spell to clean the blend from his hand. "Slytherin is gone and I don't feel the need to stay here any longer. It's not like I need the education after all."

He flicked his wand and a bag he had prepared appeared on his bed. He picked it up.

"You should be happy, Granger. You won't have to give McGonagall that recommendation after all." He started to walk towards her and the exit. However, when he made to pass her, she grabbed his arm.

He looked at her, amused. "Really, Granger, you think you can force me to stay?"

"I can't let you leave," she said, clearly trying to sound brave.

"When you put it that way…" Tom trailed off and flicked his wand again, sending her flying to the opposite end of the room.

She fell onto the floor, letting out a grunt.

"I don't want to kill you, Granger," Tom said. "I don't really feel like taking care of all this Serpent of the World business or raising kiddies to do so. I have more important things to do. So, why don't you stay here and continue to practice all the things Salazar told you to, and I'll focus on what really matters."

Granger got back to her feet. "So you don't think the end of the world matters?"

"I do, but I have the highest confidence in your abilities to stop it," Tom answered and turned around, ready to finally get out of this place.

"Wait! I can't do it on my own!" The panic in her voice made him turn around with a frown.

"You can't do what?"

Her expression was pained. "Slytherin said I needed to learn how to control a snake and even a Basilisk before I can hope to control the Midgard Serpent. And he said I couldn't learn it on my own. I need someone to teach me."

Tom looked at her in disbelief. "Snakes are simple minded creatures and you are one of the bossiest witches I've ever encountered. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"And what if I can't?" she asked.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"You can teach me."

Tom regarded her closely. She looked sincere, but he was sure that wasn't all there was to it. No doubt she wanted to keep an eye on him as well. But what if she was telling the truth and she couldn't control the Midgard Serpent?

He had already come to the conclusion that he wouldn't benefit from the world as they knew it ending. Too many useful things would be lost; knowledge, wealth, power. No, he would rather keep the Midgard Serpent where it was for now, as a secret weapon. However, then he would need to learn to control it. Salazar had only told Granger about it, but Granger was much easier to crack than Salazar.

In his hurry to get away from his ancestor, Tom hadn't really considered that Granger had become more and more useful for him every day. He did want to know what Salazar had told her. If he got her away from here as well, he could find that out and then send her off to put the Serpent back to sleep. He also still needed Granger to secure their bloodline, and he didn't know for how long his ritual would keep Salazar away. On ghosts, it worked for decades. In that case, it wasn't certain if Granger would remember her job of giving birth to new Slytherin babies.

He sighed. "You have two hours to pack a bag and meet me outside of the entrance to Hogwarts."

"But don't you want to stay here and finish your last year?" Granger asked, looking hopeful.

Tom looked down at her, arching an eyebrow, but otherwise remaining silent.

Hermione sighed. "We had better not end up camping."


	7. Chapter 7

Once again, sorry for taking so long with posting. My health is very poor, but thankfully, I've managed to stay away from the hospital. I do hope I'll get better soon, but if I suddenly disappear for a while, it's probably because I'm too sick to update and stuff like that. But the story is finished otherwise, it just has to be betaed, so don't worry about it becoming abandoned!

As always, thank you Ozzy for betaing! You are the best! And thanks to everyone who have read, reviewed, faved and subscribed to this story! It really warms my heart! Anon review reply can be found here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Hermione felt her heart beat fast in fear as she ran back to the tower to get her things. She was going to leave Hogwarts with Voldemort for crying out loud! She wasn't sure exactly what it was that had got him to take her along, but she didn't for a second believe that it was just to help her. He may not want to deal with the Serpent of Midgard, but he sure as hell wouldn't help her unless he had something to gain from it.

What could he want? Leverage on Harry? Knowledge of Slytherin's lessons? Someone to torture when he got bored?

Or did he just want to keep the only one that knew who he really was in sight?

Well, it was possible that he wanted all of the above. And she had just agreed to come along with him. However, it wasn't like she could let him out of her sight. She knew what Tom Riddle was capable of. It didn't matter that he was seventeen again; he was still a mass murderer. And she was the only one who knew he existed.

Not that she had any idea how to stop him from doing exactly what he wanted. Slytherin hadn't told her how he kept Riddle under control, only that it had to do with Slytherin creating him.

There were still Slytherin's books though.

Hermione paused at the staircase and glanced at her watch. She could make it down to the Chamber and get them. But that meant taking the risk of Riddle finding out that they existed. He would probably search through her things at the first opportunity.

However, without Slytherin's books, she would never even have a chance of finding out how Slytherin controlled him. It would have to be worth it.

She ran to the Gryffindor tower, through the common room and up to the dorm she shared with Ginny.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, when she burst into the room.

"I have to go," Hermione said and waved her wand over her belongings, summoning all of them into her beaded bag. There was no time to sort through them. Since the bag could contain an infinite amount of belongings, it was better if she brought too much than too little.

"Why? What happened?" Ginny asked again, sitting up in her bed and putting her book down.

"I don't have time to explain," Hermione said and summoned her cloak. "I have something I need to do and I don't know how long it will take. I'll try to send an Owl."

She left again, ignoring her friend's questions. When she came back, she would have to think up a really good explanation. Right now, she had to get those books and put them somewhere Riddle would never think to look.

On her way down to the Chamber, she withdrew a sock from her beaded bag. As she walked, she put an Undetectable Extension Charm on the sock, same as she had on the beaded bag, so it would be able to contain more than it should. She also put a Notice-Me-Not spell on it, so no one would think to take a closer look at it.

Once the sock was done, she got out another sock and did the same to that one. She did it on seven different socks, until she finally stopped. That should be enough. If Riddle found one of them and asked, she would say that her left foot was one size bigger than the other one, and the socks were never comfortable, so she had had to enlarge them. But she hadn't want anyone to notice it, because that would have been embarrassing.

Holding the last sock in her hand, she entered the Chambers of Secrets and hurried to Slytherin's room. The fake wall gave way as soon as she touched it (had Slytherin planned for her to go down there to the books?) and she stepped through.

Another summoning spell, and everything in the room flew into the bright blue sock. She put it back into the beaded bag and hurried out again.

She had a good twenty minutes to spare when she finally exited Hogwarts' grounds. She looked around, and just then, Riddle stepped out of the shadows.

Hermione blinked in surprise when she saw him. All summer, she had never thought about the way Riddle dressed. It had all been very common, bland clothing, even if everything looked good on him. Now, however, he was wearing a robe that seemed to float around him. The fabric was so black it was almost shining, and the silver details and buttons made it look expensive. However, that was not all. His whole expression had altered. He looked … older.

Then it struck her, he didn't have to hide anymore. The thought made her freeze in fear. She hadn't thought this through. She had taken Slytherin's protection for granted, and despite Riddle's threats, she hadn't considered what he would do now that he was rid of the only thing that had been keeping him back.

"Good, you are here." Even Riddle's voice was different. It was much colder than it had been before. He really wasn't trying to play nice anymore.

"Yes," Hermione replied, deciding to take the safest route and not anger him. At least not now.

"We are going to Apparate," he said and stepped closer to her. "Once we reach our destination, you will not talk. You will not run, you will not try to fight and you will not cry."

Hermione frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"I own several properties all over the world. However, I imagine I will have to remind the current safe-keeper of that fact." He held out his arm.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, Hermione heard a warning bell ringing. "But how do you know they are still yours? If you acquired them before you were 17—"

He interrupted her with a cold laugh. "Ah yes, Salazar had you convinced that I only remember my life up until the point where I made the first horcrux. Well, there are many things our honoured ancestor didn't know about."

She was seeing that more and more.

Riddle, apparently getting tired of waiting for her, grabbed her arm.

"On three. One, two—"

Hermione felt the nauseating experience of being pushed through a narrow object. The next moment, they were standing outside a surprisingly cosy-looking cottage in the middle of a forest. Wherever they were, it was still the middle of the night, and the only source of light came from candles in the cottage's windows.

Riddle walked up to the white painted door and knocked hard, thrice. When no one came to open it, he knocked again, harder.

The door opened a little, and Hermione could see an old dark man peek out. "It's the middle of the night, go away."

"Rudolph," Riddle said. "Time to pack up and leave."

"What for? Who are you?" Rudolph asked, clearly annoyed.

Riddle moved his hand so fast Hermione hardly saw it. Before she knew it, Rudolph had been thrown back from the doorway, screaming in agony.

"What are you doing?" Hermione screamed and ran up to Riddle, grabbing his wand hand. "You can't just torture—"

Riddle silenced her with such an ice-piercing look, Hermione actually took a step back. Right, no talking.

Riddle stepped through the doorway and Hermione hurried after. She just had time to see a flash of green light hit the old man. She stared at him in horror.

"_Evanesco_," Riddle said, making the body disappear. "I thought my orders were perfectly clear, Granger."

Hermione still stared at the spot where Rudolph had lain. "You just—"

"Killed him? Yes, he was an unnecessary complication. It suited me better to have him dead."

She slowly turned to look at him. "What?"

Riddle removed his outer robe and threw it over a deep brown armchair. A small table stood next to it, with a blue tea cup, still half-full. A book was lying next to it. Rudolph must have been having a lovely, relaxed evening before they had shown up. It was a romance novel, she noticed. Strange that a grown wizard would read a romance novel.

Riddle sat down in the armchair and leaned back, his right hand holding his wand effortlessly against the armrest. "You do not seem to comprehend what has happened, Granger. I'm free. You are the only one who knows that I'm alive, and I intend to keep it that way. You are only alive because I need you to be. Salazar planned for you to learn all his secrets so you could carry on his legacy and responsibilities to the next generation. That suits me, and thus, that is what you will do."

Hermione just stared at him. Her usually very fast brain was still trying to take in everything that was happening. She had lived through a war. She had experienced things no one should ever have to go through. And yet, she couldn't quite grasp this new situation she found herself in.

"The rules will be quite simple, dear sister," Riddle continued. "You won't get in my way. If you do, I will punish you. I will teach you how to control snakes, and once you can do that, you'll go down to the Serpent of Midgard and put him at ease again. After that, we will discuss your future. As long as you don't jeopardise my work, you can do pretty much anything you want, but I will keep an eye on you. We are siblings, after all."

His features gave him the appearance of one so young; younger than her even. But the dark eyes belonged to someone much older. His whole demeanour screamed of experience and power. It struck her how much he had had them fooled. He remembered _everything_. He may look 17, but his mind wasn't.

"Now, I will of course have a say in your choice of husband. His blood will mix with mine, and we want the next generation to become as powerful as possible."

That make Hermione snap out of her shock and finally catch up to the moment. "No."

Riddle tilted his head forward, just the slightest, and arched an eyebrow in question. "No?"

"No. You can't possibly think I'll agree to any of that! Once I've saved the world from the madness of your ancestor, that will be it. We will each go our separate ways and not meet again until another battle, in which we will fight on opposite sides. If you want a next generation, then you go and get pregnant."

Riddle looked at her for a few seconds, unimpressed. Then he flicked his wand, in the smallest of motions. Hermione fell down, screaming. It felt like her blood was on fire! She could feel it rushing around in her veins, burning her up from the inside.

Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Hermione stayed on the ground, panting through her mouth. Her nose was bleeding. She lifted a shaky hand and was about to press the hem of her shirt against her nose, when a towel appeared before her.

Riddle pressed it against her nose. "Lean forward, it will pass soon."

Hermione tried to push him away, but her arms were weak from the pain of the curse.

"Blood magic is very powerful when used against your own blood," Riddle said happily. "I haven't had a chance to try it since I was young, and I have learned a lot of new things since then. So believe me when I say I have ways of punishing you. Because of our bond, dear sister, I don't even have to be physically near you to hurt you. All I need is my own blood, and fortunately, I have it with me all the time."

He dragged her up and made her sit down on the brown sofa.

"_Episkey_," Riddle said, pointing his wand at her nose, before removing the towel. "Have I made myself clear?"

Hermione nodded. Perfectly clear. She wouldn't go against him again, until she had read up on blood magic. If he was so careless with information, that must only mean he knew of a way to block her if she tried to use the same thing against him. She would have to find that before doing anything else. That was one unpleasant curse.

"Good. Rest here for a bit. I'll go and inspect the house. I do believe there are two bedrooms, but I doubt the beds are made in both."

He patted her head and left the sofa. Hermione took a deep breath through her now-healed nose. This was going to be so much worse than she had imagined.

xxx

Tom stood in the doorway and watched Granger sleep. The curse had indeed taken its toll on her; he had found her asleep on the sofa. She hadn't even stirred when he had floated her to her bedroom and put her into bed. Then again, it was almost four in the morning. It had been a long night. Thankfully, they could both sleep in tomorrow.

His sister. He had never wanted siblings, but he now found himself curious about what it would be like. It wouldn't be long until he had disciplined her; she may prove useful. There were, of course, dangers of having someone else walk around with his blood in them, but no one needed to know about that. Granger wouldn't tell, he was quite sure of it.

The only question was what he would use her for. There were countless ways, but he hadn't decided on the best one yet. In fact, he hadn't decided anything for sure about his future. Lord Voldemort was dead, no one would expect him to cause any problem anymore. Did Tom want people to continue to believe he was dead or not?

It would be easy to gather followers by proving that not even Harry Potter could kill Lord Voldemort. They would fear and awe him. But what would he use them for? If he came back as Lord Voldemort, people would expect him to continue to conquer the world and wipe out the Muggles. Did he really want to do that right now?

He wasn't immortal anymore. He still wasn't sure what Salazar had done to bring him back, or how that affected him. As memories came back, would his age come too? The first thing he needed was answers. Granger would be useful with that. He would have to get the information out of her.

Should he use force or not? He snorted softly to himself. Like she would tell him voluntarily. No, he could force the answers out of her. Make her talk, then teach her what she needed to know.

Yes, that would be a good first step. The more information he got, the better plans he could make for the future.

He left the doorway and went to his own room. He crawled under the covers and put the light out with his wand. The cottage was silent around him. He wondered what he would dream about that night. He had lied to Granger when he had said he remembered everything. New memories were still appearing every time he slept. He had enough memories to put together what had happened the last fifty years, but he still wasn't sure what he was missing. The memories themselves didn't feel like normal memories. It felt like he was watching someone else's life. It was a strange feeling. He thought about his memories as if they were a book he recalled reading, but he couldn't connect with them the same way he could to his own recent memories. It was quite frustrating. Yet, they kept coming...

"_Master?"_

_He chuckled and closed the book he had been reading to look up at the young woman entering the library. "Master? I don't recall anyone calling me 'master' before."_

"_But you are," she said, hurrying forward to sit down by his feet. Her face shone with devotion. "My Lord and Master."_

_Affectionately, she stroked her cheek against his knee._

"_You flatter me, Miss Black," he said, even though he was pleased with her submission._

"_Please, call me Bella, my Lord."_

"_Bella," he said and stroked her black hair. She closed her eyes and shuddered with pleasure. He was mildly surprised that she would show her devotion to him this openly. They had met just the other week, at her sister's engagement party. Ever since then, he had hardly been able to get rid of her. At first, he had been annoyed. He had had enough girls going after him at Hogwarts, hoping for some romance._

_But after the incident last night, he had begun to see her in a new light._

"_How old are you, Bella?" he asked._

"_I just turned seventeen, my Lord," she offered. "I'll be leaving Hogwarts next year."_

_He looked at her, amused. "Are you lying to me because you know I only take followers who are of-age, or because you think I won't bed a minor?"_

_She looked up at him, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'll turn seventeen next month. I am leaving Hogwarts next year."_

_He held out his hand and when she took it, he pulled her up and tugged her into his lap. She squirmed in delight._

"_I know about your followers. I want to be one of them. All my life, I have been looking for someone to teach me, guide me. When I first saw you, I knew you could teach me more," Bella whispered eagerly, leaning closer to him._

_He stroked her face, his hand coming to rest under her chin. "I was wondering if the performance last night was for my benefit. How long have you been studying the Dark Arts?"_

"_All my life," she responded eagerly. "But I know I'm not remotely close to your level. I can see it around you. Smell it."_

_She placed a hand against his chest, and her eyes turned misty, her pupils dilating in attraction. "Feel it."_

_He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "I can feel it in you too, my dear. And I will be honoured to take you as one of my followers … after you graduate."_

_He could see the disappointment in her eyes._

"_However, that doesn't mean I can't give you a private lesson. If you'd like," he said, and smiled as she shone with delight._

Tom woke up with an unpleasant hard-on. Sweet Merlin, how he missed having followers. Their devotion was intoxicating. Having their lives in his hand… especially Bella. Oh, he had had many wet dreams about Bella. Such a shame he would never have control over her again. But she had failed him by dying.

Hm. Even if he wasn't sure he wanted to return as Lord Voldemort, there was nothing standing in his way of getting new followers. People always flocked around power and ambition. He could collect some worthy individuals. He didn't know what he needed them for yet, but it was always good to have followers at hand to do the things you didn't feel like doing.

He got out of bed and headed towards the shower to take care of himself. Perhaps he should have asked Luna to come with him? She had been excellent company and was much more likely to succumb to him, long before Granger did. Then again, it was not as if his sexual urges were a problem for him. If he didn't want them, he ignored them. They were just pleasant to indulge from time to time.

As he stepped into the shower, he shook his head. He really was a teenage boy again; it had been years since he had thought about sex this much. Or wanked off in the shower. Then again, all the transformations he had undergone the last time had reduced his sexual appetite to almost zero. Much to Bella's disappointment. If she could see him now, she'd jump with happiness. Right into his bed.

Oh, Salazar save him, he had even got a teenager's humour.

His deed done, he dried off with a spell and wrapped a housecoat around himself as he walked into the small kitchenette. Rudolph had stocked it well and he easily found tea and toast. As the water started to boil, Granger came out of her room as well, still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing last night. She was watching him with caution.

"Don't worry, Granger, I won't torture you on an empty stomach," Tom greeted her, chipper.

She glared at him, but went up and took down a cup for herself.

"I don't want to do this if you are going to constantly torture me," she growled.

"Don't disobey my orders and I won't have to," Tom replied. "Toast?"

She nodded, but didn't respond. Clearly, she could see that it was fruitless. Or, knowing her, she was waiting to bring it up when a better opportunity arose and she actually had something to bargain with.

"I'm going to find you a snake to practice on today," Tom said as they sat down to eat. "Once you have it, you'll get used to the way you speak with snakes. You have the language in your blood, but you need to understand the culture of the snakes. I can't teach you that, you have to figure it out for yourself."

"By asking the snake?" she asked, sounding doubtful.

"For example. If you are nice, the snake may allow you to come and watch it in its natural habitat."

He finished his tea and went to the door of the cottage. Taking a deep breath, he called out, commanding all snakes closeby to come to him. It only took a few seconds. No snake could withstand the order of a true Parselmouth.

Inspecting the gathered crowd, he chose a brown and black Smooth Snake, 26 inches long. It was probably best to start with something that wasn't poisonous.

"_Hello, what's your name_?" Tom asked and picked the snake up, after sending the others away.

"_Mischich_," the snake replied. "_Pleased to meet you, Tongued One_."

"_Likewise, Mischich_," Tom said and closed the door again. "_This is my sister, Hermione. She wishes to play with you, oblige her_."

"_Yes, Tongued One_."

He handed the snake to Granger, who looked quite uncomfortable touching it. Silly Mudblood.

"I'll be back later. You can go out with Mischich if you want, but don't go far. I will find you if you do," Tom said, making sure the threat went across.

"It's not like I have anywhere else to be," Granger muttered, inspecting the snake even though her mouth was pressed together in a repulsed grimace.

Tom nodded and Apparated away. He would question her later, tonight. Today, he would find out if there were any worthy followers at hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Happy black Friday all my american readers. It seems this custom have come to Sweden as well... don't know why. There seem to be sales all the time? Anyway, here is a new chapter, you get it for 100 % off! WOHO! (terms and conditions may be applied, review to find out more).

Thank you, Ozzy, for helping me beta this chapter! And many thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, faved and subscribed!

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

"So," Hermione said, placing the snake on the floor and sitting down beside it. "You are a snake."

The snake just kept staring at her, unblinkingly. Hermione sighed. Tom had made it look so easy. Was she even talking in Parseltongue? She took a deep breath and tried again.

"_Hi_," she said, and this time, she could feel a difference. Her tongue felt like it was vibrating, instead of how it usually felt like when she spoke.

"_Hello_," the snake responded.

"_So, you are Mischich_," Hermione tried, and could once again feel the difference in her mouth as she spoke. She wondered how that could happen. How could _blood _make you learn another language?

"_Yes, that is what I'm called_," the snake responded, and Hermione got the impression that the snake thought she was slow or something.

"_I'm Hermione Granger_," Hermione said. "_I'd like to ask you some questions about being a snake_."

"_Why_?" the snake asked.

"_Well, I'm curious_," Hermione stated. "_What have you eaten today_?"

Her knowledge about snakes was limited. She would have felt much better if she had got the chance to read up on them first. However, Slytherin hadn't said that this was necessary, and now she didn't have access to any books on the subject. Thus, she would have to try and ask questions to learn.

Getting to know the snake was slow and boring, though. Hermione tried to think up of as many questions as possible, but the snake didn't offer much that she could continue on. All in all, being a snake seemed quite dull, and by noon, Hermione gave up for the day. She needed to research this!

Hoping that Tom wouldn't come back anytime soon, Hermione locked the door to her room and picked up the books from Slytherin's chamber. After all, she didn't know when Tom would leave her alone again, and she needed to try to read as much as possible. It was the only way she would ever be out from under Tom's thumb. There had to be something about blood magic in those books, since it was blood magic that bound them together.

All she needed was time.

xxx

"Thank you, Emily," Tom said with his most charming smile, as the waitress served him his ordered lunch. It would be so wonderful to have something else to drink but pumpkin juice for lunch. Hogwarts was surprisingly boring when it came to a choice of drinks, and he had always disliked the brewage.

"You are welcome, call if you need anything else," the waitress said, blushing deeply. She was a young witch, probably a recent graduate from France, if he didn't mistake her accent. He wondered for a moment how she had ended up in a place like this, but then decided that she wasn't worth his curiosity. That she didn't use magic to carry the trays with food told him that she was either very unskilled or very weak in her magic. Not useful to him at all.

Instead, he let her leave his table and his mind, and focused on the rest of the pub he had entered. Ireland had some of the best pubs in the world, but this was not one of them. No, he had chosen this one for its shabby reputation. Looking around the room, he decided that it was a well-earned reputation.

One of his many talents had always been to sense magic around him. Not only that, but he could sense the nature of the magic. The Dark Arts had a very distinct colour, or flavour, depending on how you chose to describe them. Tom instinctively knew when someone was practising the Dark Arts, or recently had been. It left a stain which could last for days, or weeks, depending on how serious the magic had been. Many of his Death Eaters had used the Dark Arts so often that they would constantly reek of them as they walked around. He had liked that about them.

In this pub, at least three visitors had recently been practicing, and another two looked as if they were only waiting for the right opportunity. However, that said nothing about their usefulness to him. Any thug could practice the Dark Arts if they put their mind to it. This time, Tom was only interested in the best.

He was halfway through his lunch when another man entered the room. It wasn't just the smell of the Dark Arts that made Tom look at him, but the man, almost comically, fit the stereotypical description of a Dark Wizard. His head was shaved, and a scar ran over his left eyebrow and down onto his cheek. Someone must have tried to take his eye out and missed. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, covered with a long black robe. His boots were big and black, covered with mud.

Tom hid a smile as he drank from his cup of beer (real beer, not that butterbeer crap). However, just as he did, the man turned and looked at him. His brown eyes narrowed as he saw Tom's smile and he stalked over to him.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be drinking?" the man asked, his voice just as dark as the rest of him.

Tom let his eyes sweep over the man again and noted a tattoo on the back of his right hand. "Aren't_ you_ a bit too young to be wearing a tattoo from the Order of Katla?" he replied coolly.

The man fisted his hand, making the dragon wing-shaped tattoo stand out even more. "We felt like it was time for a revival of the Order."

"We?" Tom questioned.

He hid another smile when two men at the bar rose at once, their wands in hand. Really, these men were all intimidation and no discipline. But how powerful were they?

"We," the man said triumphantly, withdrawing his own wand. "I don't think I like your tone, junior."

Tom finished his beer, not taking his eyes off the three men for a moment. He put the cup down again and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Is that so?"

He could read their intention before they had even finished their thoughts. Thus, he had a shield up several seconds before the table in front of him blasted into a thousand pieces. Good thing he hadn't paid for the food yet.

The other people in the pub seemed to be used to fights such as this one, because no one tried to step in, they all fled. Even Emily moved through a backdoor, leaving the four of them alone.

Rising as well, he flicked his wand at the man to the far left, nailing him to the ceiling with a spell. The other two started to cast curses at him, but he deflected them. Not easily, he was pleased to note. The man with the scar applied the most strength, but Tom doubted he was putting all he had behind the curses. They weren't expecting a 'boy' like him to put up much resistance. In fact, Tom could see the surprise in their eyes when they noticed that their partner had already been neutralised.

The man to the right made the mistake of looking at his comrade, his mouth agape in shock, and Tom took the opportunity to stun him. He fell down before he had even realised what had happened, leaving Tom alone with the scarred man.

"You know how to duel, boy," the man noted, a hint of respect in his eyes. Good.

"And you three clearly don't," Tom remarked.

As he had expected, it made the man angry enough to lash out, and attack again. Tom easily sidestepped it and returned a curse of his own, which felt like the bones in the man's legs were breaking. He fell down, screaming.

Tom tried to summon his wand, but despite the pain, the man slashed with it again, almost hitting Tom in the chest. He blocked it just in time.

"Or maybe you do have some practice," Tom allowed, generously. "But you lack discipline. Is it because your group has no purpose? The Order of Katla were warriors and dragon tamers, but you just seem like you are looking for a fight. Have you ever seen a real dragon?"

"Who the fuck are you to be talking to me like that?" the man roared. "I'm Hans fucking Lejon."

Tom cast three spells in rapid progression. Hans blocked the first curse, was hit in the chest with the second, and had his wand taken from him by the third.

"And I'm the Master of the Dark Arts, so you will do best to watch your tone with me," Tom replied coldly. "I may be young, but I can make you suffer in ways you have never even fantasised about before."

To underline his threat, he cast another spell at the man. Hans bent over in pain and threw up blood. Tom ended the curse.

He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Hans. "I have never heard of you before, so I doubt you are a man of any importance. With my help, you could be. All I need is a promise of your obedience."

Hans' eyes were furious. "Fuck you, I don't take orders from children!"

Tom smiled. Oh, how he had hoped for that response.

xxx

When Hermione heard the outer door slam shut, she immediately hid the book from Slytherin and picked up one of her own books. She had just opened it and sat down in the armchair at the corner of her room, when she heard Riddle reach her door. It only took him a second to unlock the door.

He regarded the door as it opened. "You wanted a moment's notice. What for?"

"Because I did," Hermione answered coldly.

He stepped into the room and Hermione glanced up at him, about to tell him to leave her alone, but paused. His green robe had splatters of something dark on it, and she was quite certain it was blood.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Just reconnecting with the world," Riddle answered, looking pleased with himself. "I don't see the snake here. How did it go?"

Hermione grimaced. "We talked, but she didn't seem to understand my questions."

"It is a snake, you can't think of it as a human," Riddle said, rolling his eyes. "You only need to figure out how to make it do your bidding."

"Why didn't you say so?" Hermione asked, annoyed. "Bullying creatures around doesn't come naturally to all of us."

"That's not what your friends said," Riddle commented, as he sat down on her bed. "I have lost track of how many times they have called you 'bossy'."

"Bossy and bully are not the same thing."

Riddle leaned forward and Hermione noticed that his wand was hanging casually from his right hand. She tensed up, readying herself for the worst.

"Perhaps you are right. I want you to tell me what my dear ancestor has taught you, and I do think I'll take a more bullying approach than that of a bossy individual."

Hermione's wand was lying next to her in the armchair, and she grasped it. "I didn't think you were interested in the Serpent of Midgard."

"No, you misunderstood, I don't care about dealing with the problem, but I'm very curious about our family secrets. I advise you to tell me voluntarily, but I don't mind providing you with encouragement."

Hermione weighed her options. Should she resist, and no doubt be tortured until she told him, or tell him everything she knew? It wasn't as if it was that much. The book she had read today had told her a bit more, but nothing useful. There would be no harm in telling him everything she knew right now. In fact, it was probably best to do it now, so he wouldn't ask later on, when she had gained more information.

With a sigh, she closed her book and put it aside. "There is no need to torture me. It's not as if there is that much to tell, Slytherin was more focused on teaching me the spells to put the Serpent to sleep. He only told me a bit of his family history. I don't think any of it is to be considered a real secret."

"Humour me."

"He spent a lot of time teaching me the different spells that it takes to command the Serpent of Midgard, as well as a bit of the magical theory behind its creation. Loki used the blood from various magical creatures, and impregnated a female giant. She died giving birth to it," Hermione said, grimacing.

"What different sorts of blood did he use?" Riddle asked. She was not in the least surprised that he didn't seem to care one bit about the poor giant.

"Besides his own, he used the blood of three different types of dragons, giants, a basilisk and the bootlace worm, the longest known animal, which partly explains how the Serpent of Midgard became so long. But despite that, it took magic that not even Slytherin knew about to make it grow to that size. It shouldn't be possible with the magical knowledge we have, but somehow, Loki did it."

Riddle looked thoughtful. "What did Slytherin tell you about Loki?"

"Not much. Loki's past is quite mysterious; he never spoke about it to his children. Human children, I mean. Slytherin was related to Loki's youngest son, who was raised by Heimdall, one of the few 'gods' that survived the final battle between Loki and Odin. Heimdall told him what he knew, but they were mostly things that had happened after Loki appeared in Asgard. Oh, and Asgard was on an island that sank during the battle. Or well, Slytherin thinks the Serpent destroyed it."

"But what did Salazar know about Loki?" Riddle pressed.

Hermione hesitated. She had found out more about Loki by reading Slytherin's books, and even though most of it was probably exaggerated, Riddle had a history of putting his fate in stupid tales. Like the prophecy (which wouldn't have come true if he hadn't made it come true, stupid arse).

"Loki was probably just partly wizard and partly something else, non-human. The myths say he was half-giant, but no one knew for sure. He was a very powerful magician and he seemed to have approached the Æsir wizards to learn more from them. This was not strange at all. Æsir wasn't an ethnic group; Asgard was more like a refuge for wizards that had been forced to leave their former settlements for some reason.

"Odin was their leader, he was also a powerful wizard and said to be a prophet. Together, they seemed to have found a way to stop ageing completely. They proclaimed themselves as immortal, but it seems like they could die by force in the end. There are numerous tales of Æsir that died in accidents or murder." Hermione paused and studied Riddle to see his reaction to the information. Everyone knew he wanted to become immortal.

Riddle, however, didn't seem surprised by it, and he didn't ask her to elaborate.

"Loki was said to have been very beautiful, but he was also a great illusionist and could change his gender, race and species. He met an Àsynja, named Sigyn, and they had two boys, Vali and Nari. He seemed to have been quite obsessed with changing the nature of people. He used his own son, Vali, to create the first werewolf. After that, Sigyn left with Nari and was given protection by Heimdall.

"It's not clear where the ability to speak to snakes came from, but it would appear that Loki did something to either his own blood, or Nari's that changed it. But from what Slytherin told me, this has become less and less apparent in each generation. Slytherin's father told Slytherin that his grandfather had been able to transform into a snake, but not like an Animagus. Slytherin also had an uncle who was born with a snake-like appearance, but he didn't survive for long. Maybe Loki experimented on Nari to figure out the best way to create the Serpent of Midgard, but no one knows."

Riddle processed this in silence for a few seconds. "And these spells to control the Serpent, how do they work?"

"I'll have to show you," Hermione said and rose, wand in hand. "But as I found out, this is only part of it. The spell is in Parseltongue, but apparently, you have to use the force of a Parselmouth as well, not just the magic."

She performed the spell for Riddle and then sat down again.

"Interesting," Riddle said. "Speaking the spell in Parseltongue is changing the way you need to move your body to perform your spell. I wonder…"

He trailed off and rose, starting to pace back and forth. Hermione didn't disturb him. She too had noticed that you couldn't move the way she had been taught to move, during the different phases of casting a spell, when she did these spells. It seemed like the foundation of the spells was different, because of the language which they were spoken in.

"Have you tried casting the spells translated?" Riddle asked.

Hermione frowned. "What would be the point of that? You don't translate spells in Latin or Greek to another language."

"No, they don't work, or they work differently than they were intended to. But have you tried it?"

She shook her head. She had once asked Professor Flitwick why spells had origins in different languages, and Flitwick had explained that magic itself was like a language. If you didn't say it the right way or with the right pronunciation, it usually didn't work, and sometimes, it led to disasters. It was as if the magic didn't understand what you wanted it to do, if you didn't tell it in the right way.

It was like if you went into a Portuguese restaurant and tried to order in French. Hopefully, what you said wouldn't make any sense to the Portuguese waiter, but if you were unlucky, you could end up insulting someone.

However, the relationship between magic and the caster seemed even more complicated than that. She had been surprised to learn that 'Wingardium Leviosa' wasn't the only word you could use to make something levitate. In China, they had the same spell, but another word, and different wand movements.

Spells had been discovered and taught in different cultures for thousands of years. It was common that they were developed in the language the creator spoke. There were a few spells which were completely in English, created by a couple of eccentric wizards and witches. However, the majority of wizards saw it as a waste of time to make new spells, so few new spells had been created in the past couple of centuries.

Therefore, Hermione was certain that nothing good would come from translating the spells in Parseltongue. But it was an idea that made her curious.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by Riddle coming to a halt in front of her.

"I want you to experiment with those spells on snakes and see what happens. After you have gained some understanding of what being a Parselmouth means," he ordered her.

Hermione sighed, but nodded. She didn't mind testing out magic, but she hated that he had ordered her to do so.

"Also, in a few days, I'll bring home some guests. You'll be there to serve us some refreshments. But you are to stay out of our way, and don't speak up. Think of yourself as my personal house-elf," Riddle added with a smile.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment. "If you for a second—"

She broke off as the pain from yesterday started to boil in her veins, but before she even had time to scream, he broke the spell.

"It will be a training session in obedience, dear sister," Riddle said softly, as he walked up to her. "And you'd be wise to fear my displeasure in this matter. My guests are quite ruthless, and you do not want me to ask them to partake in your punishment if you fail me."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach when he smiled.

He stroked her cheek. "But, if you please me, I will reward you by not asking what you could possibly be up to which makes you lock the door. In fact, I won't even disturb you when your door is locked. At least, not for a little while."

He straightened again and started to walk out of the room. "Think about it," he said. "Dinner will be ready in half-an-hour."

He closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone with a heart beating rapidly in fear.


	9. Chapter 9

Happy birthday to me! Here is a new chapter, in celebration of my birthday! Yay! Thank you, so, so much Ozzy, for betaing this chapter, a dragon will be guarding you for all times. Also want to thank everyone who have read, faved, subscribed and reviewed! Anon review reply can be found here: tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com /t1011-review-reply-serpent-of-the-world#49192

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"I'm not going to wear that," Hermione said, staring, appalled at the dress on her bed.

Riddle smiled. "Of course you are. You have five minutes to rant about it, but then you have to get dressed. I'll go pick them up."

Before Hermione had time to respond, he was gone. Hermione growled and cursed him. Who did he think he was, forcing her to wear something so ridiculous? She would look like the porn-version of a French maid!

Unless…

Hermione smiled and quickly pulled off her trousers and t-shirt. He had only said that she had to wear it, not that she couldn't make adjustments to it. After all, he couldn't be expected to know her size, and he didn't want her to look ridiculous now, did he?

Stepping in front of the mirror, she snorted at the dress. Riddle must have been joking. Or at the very least, he was testing her, because there was no way in hell he could expect that she would allow anyone to see her like this.

She waved her wand, extending the skirt of the black dress, until it reached her knees. She then removed the silly lace at the arms, and pondered over what to do with the low neckline. Perhaps she could wear a top underneath? Her magical sewing-abilities didn't help with much more than fixing tears and, well, extending or removing what was already there. Yes, a black top underneath would cover her enough.

She did, however, put on the white apron, even if that too felt insulting. But she was to play some sort of waitress and the apron seemed to go with the role. Why Riddle wanted her to play a waitress was still a mystery to her. He hadn't asked her to cook or anything, just told her what she was to do once the guests arrived and then shown her the dress.

If she had to guess, she would say that he wanted to make a good impression on his guests. Having servants would make him seem wealthy, even if the meeting took place in a cottage. She was sure that could be explained by security concerns or whatever. He had said that these were dark wizards after all.

Or maybe he just wanted to torment her. That didn't seem unlikely either. Perhaps it was indeed just a "training session in obedience", as he had put it. Well, she could play games too. She'd be on her best behaviour and find out as much as she could about these dark wizards. It would only help her to identify them and send them off to prison once she was out of Riddle's reach. Then he would stand there without any followers.

The thought made her feel smug, and when she heard Riddle open the front door again, she was able to walk out of her room with a neutral expression.

He was standing in the middle of the room with two men Hermione had never seen before. One of them was big and bald with a scar running across the left side of his face, while the other was shorter, thinner, and sporting a mane of red hair with a beard.

"Sir?" she inquired. One of his rules had been that she were to address him as if he was her master.

Riddle eyed her for a moment, but didn't seem displeased with her attire. "Hermione, dear, bring these gentlemen something to drink."

She bowed and went to the kitchen side of the living room, while Riddle led the men to the seating area.

"So you two kids are just living here alone?" the bald one asked, as he looked around the room.

"Sure, we can say that, Hans," Riddle said with a smile, sitting down in the armchair closest to the wall.

The other two sat down in the armchairs which were turned away from the kitchen area. Therefore, only Riddle could see Hermione.

"I don't even know what we are doing here," the other man muttered, as Hermione came over with the drinks Riddle had prepared earlier.

The man Riddle had called Hans eyed her as he accepted his drink. It made Hermione's skin crawl in disgust and she instinctively disliked the man.

"Well, I guess you are here because Hans couldn't bring Charles and Jack," Riddle said and took a sip from his drink. "Have they regained consciousness yet?"

Hans's face tightened. "No," he said shortly, clearly holding back anger.

Riddle seemed pleased by this. "There you go then."

Hermione went back to the kitchen area and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Riddle would signal her when he needed her again, and until then, she'd just sit there and try not to be bored.

"We only came here to talk," Hans said, his voice still strained. "Thomas here had some ideas on how we can improve our group."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. Thomas? If he was going for a fake name, why did he choose something so similar to his own?

"What could he possibly know?" The other man sounded very hostile.

Riddle chuckled. "What indeed, Louis? Tell me, how is your wife? Still haunting you after you killed her? It must be really frustrating, never being able to bed another woman without her popping in and giving you pointers."

The man flew up, his wand aimed at Riddle. "Who the fuck have you been talking to?"

Riddle looked very unimpressed by the wand. Hans reached out and grabbed Louis's arm, dragging him down into the armchair again.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Lu," Hans muttered.

"What the fuck, Hans? Who is this kid?"

"Someone worth listening to, you stupid arse," Hand said, his tone final. "Now sit down and be quiet, or I'll Imperio you myself."

Hans seemed to have enough authority over Louis, because he didn't say another word.

"With that resolved," Riddle said, looking quite amused, "I'd like to know more about your order. How is the search for dragons coming along?"

"We have two dragons," Hans said, even though he sounded reluctant to share the information. "We have a dragon trainer on our side, and he is teaching me how to ride and control one of them. But finding other dragons is hard because of the regulations on handling them. There are rarely any dragons available."

"I have better connections," Riddle said casually. "Dragons are easy to come by when you know who to talk to. I'm surprised your dragon trainer doesn't know anyone else."

"He isn't from around here," Hans said dismissively.

"Oh? Where is he from?"

"Someplace colder. He always wears a lot of coats. He's a crazy fucker, that's for sure."

Hermione heard Hans take a swig of his drink and Riddle looked at her, making a small gesture with his glass, indicating that a refill was in order. Hermione quickly did as ordered and went to fill up Hans's glass. Riddle wasn't even one third through his glass, and Louis didn't seem to be drinking at all. She returned to the kitchen again.

"How many are you?" Riddle asked.

"Thirty, forty, depending on the occasion. We did a ritual last full moon, thirty-seven came then. Powerful stuff."

Riddle frowned. "A draining ritual?"

"How did you know that?" Hans asked, sounding surprised.

Riddle gave him a condescending look. "I assumed at least one of those thirty-seven knew which ritual is most effective during which full moon. And since I highly doubt you would be interested in the various fertility rituals that can be performed…"

Riddle trailed off with a chuckle.

Hans laughed as well. "Nah, we aren't into that. We found ourselves a couple of lads from some farm and sucked them dry."

"Muggles?"

"Yeah, too many wizards died in the war, we don't want to use our own."

Riddle nodded. "Probably wise. And you don't attract as much attention when you use Muggles. I assume their bodies won't be found?"

"'Course not. We are pros."

Riddle looked as if he doubted that, but glanced at Hermione. She had a hard time not taking out her wand and killing them all where they sat. How could they just sit there and talk about murder so casually? And for what? Some ritual? Her hands trembled with anger, and she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to prevent herself from doing anything stupid.

She focused on remembering who they were and what they looked like. Once she was out of here, she would report them to Kingsley. He would bring them to justice.

"You were just gathering for fun, then?" Riddle asked.

"What's wrong with that?" Hans asked, sounding annoyed.

"Nothing wrong, per se, but why not use the group for something more productive?"

"Nah, we are not into the Dark Arts for some world domination shit like … You know. We just want to have some fun, meet like-minded people."

Hermione looked up again to see Riddle lean back in his armchair. "Yes, but once you start riding on dragons, you'll gain a lot more attention."

"Our dragon trainer doesn't think so. There are plenty of places where you can ride dragons without anyone noticing. We thought it could be fun to start tournaments to compete against each other."

"You'll need more dragons for that," Riddle remarked.

"Yeah, I guess."

Hans emptied another glass and Riddle signalled for Hermione again. Holding in her anger, she went over with the container and filled Hans's glass again. Riddle was now halfway through his and Louis still wasn't drinking.

"Are you afraid I'm trying to poison you, Louis?" Riddle asked, also noting Louis full glass.

"You can never be too careful," Louis remarked darkly.

Riddle chuckled. "Well, I can assure you there is nothing to worry about. In fact, why don't you show him, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at him, questioningly. She had just been about to leave again.

Riddle gestured for her to take the glass. She suppressed a sigh and reached out for Louis's glass. Well, at least he hadn't drunk from it yet.

She took a sip and swallowed. It was much stronger than anything she had drunk before and tasted quite bitter. She hid a grimace.

"Pah, my gran takes bigger mouthfuls than that," Hans scoffed.

Hermione looked at Riddle who gave her a meaningful look, telling her to drink more.

Fine, maybe some alcohol would make listening to them more bearable for her. She took another gulp, swallowing it at once. This time, she couldn't suppress a grimace at the bitter taste. Her throat was burning unpleasantly.

Hans laughed. "Your servant doesn't seem to like it much, Thomas."

"She is young. I'm still breaking her in." Riddle dismissed her again with a wave of his hand.

With her back turned to them, Hermione shook her head and made a face.

"At least she is easy on the eyes. I've always hated those purebloods with their house-elves. Why would anyone want to see those creatures every day?"

Yes, Hermione would take great pleasure in turning this man over to the authorities. Maybe she would visit him in prison just to let him know she had been the one to put him away?

As she sat down, she could see Louis finally beginning to drink. She wondered why Riddle wanted them drunk. She was already feeling a slight buzz. Sure, the men were bigger than her and could probably handle a lot more alcohol, but it was clear that Riddle wanted them drunk.

Hm, the drink had tasted quite well though, now that she thought about it. She felt a slight yearning to drink some more.

She had just poured herself a glass when she froze. She didn't like alcohol. She didn't like being intoxicated. Why would she pour herself some more of this clearly strong—

Oh, he had drugged the drink. She spun around and looked at him. He saw her stare of disbelief and smiled, bringing his drink up to his lips and taking another sip.

But how could that be? She had poured his drink from the same container as she had the others. His drink must be drugged as well. So it couldn't be anything life-threatening at least. Probably just something to make you want to drink more. Like lust stimulation, but for the drink.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him talk to the others. He was showing off his restraint. But for what reason, she didn't know. Did he just want to torment her? He must have realised she would figure out once he had her taste the drink. Or had he hoped she wouldn't, and would succumb to the lure of the potion as well? What for?

Boy, that drink looked delicious. Sitting there on the counter, all white and sparkly, the ice shimmering as she moved the glass—

No! She put the glass down forcefully and the drink splashed out, onto her hand. Before she had time to think, she moved her hand up to her mouth and licked the liquid off. It was just a few drops, but it still made her feel really good. She bit back a moan. Bloody Tom Riddle.

She quickly washed her hand at the sink and dried it with a towel. Before the temptation returned, she turned her back to the container of the brewage and crossed her arms, tucking her hands against the sides of her body, to stop them from betraying her again. She scowled at Riddle when she saw him looking at her with mirth his eyes. She ignored him and tuned into the conversation again.

"… requires. So it's not like they have to do much, we just make sure they aren't spies or anything and then they can try it out for a year. If we deem them worthy, they are in," Hans was just saying.

"And what about drop-outs?"

"Hasn't happened," Hans said proudly.

"But you must have some plan in case someone wants to get out," Riddle pressed.

"Nah, we'll deal with it when we deal with it, where did the girl go?" Hans turned around in his chair and looked at her. "Oi, girl, more drinks!"

Hermione hurried over with the container, forcing herself to not take a sip. How could they drink it so slowly? If she had been unaware of the drug, she would probably have drank several glasses by now.

She poured out more for Hans, and now Riddle also wanted a refill, as did Louis.

"Seems a bit unfair that you don't get to drink any, Hermione," Riddle said sweetly. "I know how much you like this."

Hans chuckled. "She didn't seem to like it too much before."

"She is just slow at the start," Riddle assured him.

"Well, in that case…"

Hermione let out a yelp when Hans grabbed her from behind and pulled her into his lap. He placed his glass against her mouth.

"Go ahead, love, no one can say Hans Lejon doesn't know how to treat a lady!"

She couldn't resist it. When the liquid reached her lips, she opened them and let the bitter tasting drink run down her throat. She still found it disgusting, but it was as if that didn't matter anymore. All she could feel was the pleasure. The drink made her whole body feel warm and fuzzy, and all her worries disappeared like magic. She wasn't even bothered that Hans's free hand was on her thigh, stroking it.

The glass disappeared from her lips and she let out a groan of displeasure. Hans laughed.

"Who is this anyway?" he asked.

"Just someone who is willing to do what she is told, to learn what she wants to know," Riddle replied casually. "I'm teaching her obedience tonight. She can be quite feisty."

Hans laughed again. The alcohol seemed to be getting to him as well. "I'd be happy to help you out with that, Thomas, I know exactly what a girl needs to learn respect."

He squeezed her thigh, hard.

At once, Hermione was ripped out of her pleasurable haze. She was still enough in her senses to know that she did not want to do what he implied. She slapped his hand away and jumped off his lap, drawing her wand at the same time.

Without even stopping to think of the consequences, she fired the first spell that came to mind.

Hans flew off his seat when two dozen birds attacked him, pecking at his face. He screamed, covering his face with his hands. Hermione lifted her wand again, ready to do something even more unpleasant to that hardness she had felt against her backside when she had been on his lap, but before she had the chance, Riddle grabbed her arm.

"I think that's enough alcohol for one night, don't you?" Riddle said and waved his own wand at Hans, ending her spell.

Hermione looked at him, suddenly worried. He had said that he would punish her if she misbehaved, and that he would let the other two help him. But all he did was lead her to the door to her room and push her inside.

"I'll check on you later," he said and closed the door.

Hermione stared after him. That was it? No public torture? What was he playing at?

Sighing, she sat down on the bed. Her head had started to spin from the alcohol, and she still wouldn't have said no to more. Bloody Tom Riddle.

This wasn't working. She needed to find some way to turn the tables. Biding her time and waiting until she found out more wouldn't cut it. She couldn't just sit by and listen to them talking casually about killing Muggles and making crude jokes about disciplining her.

And she would no doubt get punished for the hexing before the night was over.

But what would she do? What could she do? It was not like she knew any way to stop him, other than killing him, and there was no way she could kill him. Or was there?

No, she still needed him to teach her about the complexities of being a Parselmouth.

But that wasn't forever. She could lay out the groundwork for murdering him. It would be hard. She stood no chance of killing him in a duel or anything like that. No, it would have to be sneaky and unexpected. Which was hard when you were up against someone as paranoid as him.

But maybe there was something she could do…

xxx

Tom spent another half-an-hour with his guests before sending them away. The Order of Katla wanted to have fun and be free of anything having to do with regulations. Well, Tom could work with that. He was sure Hans and the others would be eager to do some small jobs in exchange for more fun.

What interested Tom the most was the dragon trainer. Hans didn't seem to know him that well, but trusted that they were both just looking for entertainment. Tom wondered if this dragon trainer could have some other plans for the gang, once he got hold of more dragons. Tom would have to meet him. While Hans was the official head of the group, he was too simple-minded to be a real leader. He probably had several advisers guiding him about where they wanted him to go. Tom couldn't have that. He wanted Hans to only listen to him.

His gaze went to the closed door to Granger's room. Tonight had been informative in many ways. Granger was vicious when threatened. Very vicious. If he hadn't stopped the spell, he was sure Hans would have ended up with some serious damage. And despite the amount of alcohol she had drunk, she had still been in control of her magic.

Rising from the armchair, he went over to Granger's door. Her cravings for the drink should have subsided by now. It was only a mild lust-inducing potion, making the drinker want more at once. You built up a resistance to it pretty quickly, which was why Hans's drinking had started to slow down after his fifth refill. But by then, he had been just as drunk as Tom had wanted him to be.

However, Tom had dosed the drink according to his own weight. Granger was smaller than him and had thus been even more drugged than Hans. Despite that, it should have left her system by now.

He opened the door and found Granger lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling. She lifted her head when he entered.

"I really hate you, you know that, right?" she asked.

"I assumed so, yes," he replied, walking over to her bed and sitting down.

"So I guess you are going to punish me now for hexing someone who tried to sexually assault me?"

"Not yet, no. This was a very minor sidestep. I do expect you to protect yourself from other wizards; it's not something I'm going to torture you over. I would have stopped him myself if he had tried to do something more than feel you up."

"My knight in shining armour," she muttered. It appeared that she was still quite drunk.

"However, since you failed to follow your orders, I will have to do something about that. But not tonight."

She sat up and leaned closer to him. Her eyes were slightly unfocused. "Wow, you really are full of yourself, do you know that?"

"Need I remind you that you were the one who wanted to come with me? Actually, you begged me to take you along. You would make it easier for yourself if you would just do as you are told," he said softly.

"And you should go back to looking like snake-face, it suits your personality more," she said, and actually had the nerve to poke his cheek.

He swatted her hand away. "You are too drunk for this. We will talk again tomorrow."

Granger, however, didn't seem to be listening to him. Instead, she tried to poke his nose. When he swatted her hand away again, she started to giggle. She then proceeded to poke the rest of his body, as if she were trying to tickle him.

"Granger!" he called out, irritated.

It only made her giggle more. He was forced to take her hands and hold them down between them.

"What's so funny?" he asked, as she kept laughing.

"I just realised, that must be why you preferred to look like snakey; if you didn't look human, people wouldn't treat you like a human. They would never even consider that you were ticklish!" At her last word, she broke free again and launched herself at him, pressing fingers into his sides.

"Bloody hell," Tom groaned and tried to reach for his wand, but Granger's hands were in the way. He thus decided to physically restrain her. Once again, he managed to grip her hands, and this time he turned her around and straddled her back.

Despite that, Granger was still laughing and even though she tried to squirm free, he could feel that there was no real effort behind her movements.

"Don't make me hex you, Granger," he said softly, finally withdrawing his wand and pressing it into her neck.

Her laughs died out and she grew still. When he was certain she wasn't going to try anything else, he got off her.

He was just about to get off the bed, when she started talking again.

"I've never had a sibling."

Tom sighed. "What are you on about now?"

"I've seen siblings do this. Tickling and stuff. But I've never had a sibling to do it with." Her tone was sad.

"I advise you not to do it again," he said, finally getting off her and off the bed.

She turned around and looked at him. "No, I guess not. Any playful act with you would just end up being bloody and gory."

"Quite."

She yawned. "Merlin, you are a pain, Riddle."

"Just go to sleep, Granger. We'll talk more tomorrow."

And for the first time that night, she followed his order without delay.


End file.
